


The Worst Day of their Lives

by Katef, Patt (PattRose)



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-06 20:18:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11608194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katef/pseuds/Katef, https://archiveofourown.org/users/PattRose/pseuds/Patt
Summary: Blair is feeling undervalued and ignored, and longs for Jim to really 'see' him.  However, there are others who do value him very much, but not necessarily for the right reasons.





	The Worst Day of their Lives

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place after the episode 'Neighbourhood Watch', but diverges from canon thereafter. It grew from an outline sent to me by PattRose, and once again I thank her so much for sharing her ideas with me and letting me play with them :)
> 
> Kate x

**Introduction: Wrong place, wrong time:**   


Deep in thought, the young man moved through the streets of Cascade’s quaint Historic Market District as if on autopilot, barely even aware of the uncharacteristically balmy Spring weather. It was a Sunday morning, so the area was still quiet, although many of the eclectic collection of delicatessens, speciality gift shops and market stalls were already opening for business, hoping to attract the attention of the new season’s tourist trade. 

Blair Jacob Sandburg, wunderkind grad student, police observer and guide to reluctant sentinel, Detective Jim Ellison, had a lot on his mind, and was using the excuse of seeking out sentinel-friendly products for his roommate as an opportunity to think things through. It was for that reason that for once his habitual eager inquisitiveness was muted and so he didn’t immediately register the unusual activity taking place in the deep shadows of the alley next to the store which was his first intended port of call. 

However, as he approached the store, he belatedly caught the sounds of muffled thuds and scuffling, and instantly alert again, he peered into the murky alley, only to gasp in horror at what he was seeing. Two shadowy figures, one wielding what appeared to be a baseball bat, were beating and kicking a third, who was down on the ground, curled up into a protective ball. Blair knew only too well that he would be worse than useless if he attempted physical intervention, so groped for his cell phone, intending to call 911 immediately. And cursed under his breath when he realised that yet again he had forgotten to charge the instrument, and it was dead. 

Quickly rethinking his plan, he ran instead the few yards to the store, and barged in, calling out and looking around frantically for someone to help him out. And literally ran into the unyielding body of one of his worst nightmares before bouncing off and landing hard on his ass, gaping up at the unexpected spectre from his recent past. 

“Well, well, well! What have we here? Mr Sandburg, I presume,” Lee Brackett’s grin was predatory as he eyed the shocked young man before him, complacently noting the wide blue eyes and succulent mouth rounded in horror. “What an unexpected pleasure. A bonus, to be sure,” the ex-CIA agent continued smugly. “The guide alone at last without his sentinel protector. I think this must be my lucky day.” 

Even as Blair’s eyes narrowed as his anger and indignation overrode his fear, his attention was diverted to the activity outside the shop, and he glanced out of the window to see a large sedan pull up and pop open the trunk. Two hulking, dark-clothed figures quickly tossed a limp bundle – presumably the beaten victim – into it, and slammed it shut before climbing in, peering at the shop front and plainly expecting Brackett to exit and join them. 

With a growl, Blair surged to his feet, not knowing exactly what he was going to do, but he sure as hell was going to do _something_ to wipe the self-satisfied smirk off Brackett’s face. And that was his last conscious thought before practiced hands grabbed him, spun him around and dug painfully into the vulnerable points in his unprotected neck, and the lights went out.  


\------------------------------------  


**Part 1: A Conundrum to Solve:**  


**Jim: Later that morning, #307, 852 Prospect:**  


Jim prowled restlessly around his loft apartment, repeatedly glancing from his watch to the LED display on the microwave, as if by willpower alone he could alter the passage of time. His roommate and partner was late, and though it was hardly an unusual occurrence with the perpetually busy student-cum-observer, this time Jim was certain that there was a bad reason behind Blair’s tardiness. After all, it wasn’t as if the kid had had an easy ride since he hooked up with Jim. He had been shot at – shot, even – kidnapped and knocked out, and all in the cause of backing Jim up; his unstinting courage and friendship all too often taken for granted by his sentinel idol. 

Jim was uncomfortably aware of Blair’s blatant hero worship. Hell, the kid had admitted that Jim-the-sentinel and study subject was his Holy Grail, but Jim-the-man was desperately uneasy about the pedestal on which he had been placed. He had never wanted his hypersensitivity, and couldn’t see it as the gift Blair insisted it was. But if he couldn’t easily be rid of it, then at least he accepted that he needed his young roommate’s help and support in grounding him and offering endless suggestions as to how he could control his senses and live with them. And even if he didn’t often say it, he truly appreciated the way that Blair would go the extra mile to find foodstuffs and products to make Jim’s life easier. Which was his intention this morning, when he informed Jim over breakfast that he was going to go to the Sunday Market to pick up some produce and sentinel-friendly toiletries and cleaning materials. 

And now he was late. Very late, even for the Sandburg Zone. Particularly since they had decided on taking a trip to the National Park after lunch, to take advantage of the pleasant weather and do a little hiking. Blair would never turn down the opportunity to spend a little one-on-one time with Jim, especially if he thought he could get a little testing done on the side. 

Of course, it never occurred to Jim that Blair’s interest in him ran much deeper than as a friend and study subject. Or, at least, he didn’t _want_ to believe it. He had told himself repeatedly that he was happy with the status quo, and didn’t want or need the complications a more intimate relationship might incur. 

But it didn’t stop him from worrying here and now. If Blair didn’t show within the next half hour, Jim was going to go down to the market himself and find out exactly what his errant guide was playing at.  


\--------------------------------  


**Shortly afterwards, Cascade Historic Market District:**  


As Jim drove towards the area where he knew Blair’s favourite shops were located, he was disconcerted to find the street cordoned off, and two patrol units parked up opposite one of the larger stores. Not only that, but he recognised H’s vehicle close by, so obviously there had been some incident that warranted the presence of MCU’s on-duty detectives. Now truly uneasy, he pulled up as close as he could to the scene, and identified himself to the patrol officer who was standing by the tape, keeping the growing number of curious bystanders at bay. 

“Hey, Kowalski! What’s happening?” Jim’s concern was evident in his tone as he questioned the veteran cop. 

“Detective Ellison. I’m surprised to see you here, sir. But from what I understand, there’s been a report of a possible mugging and kidnapping. Detectives Brown and Rafe are on the scene, and have identified four witnesses. That’s all I know so far, Detective.” 

“Thanks, Kowalski. I’ll go see if I can be of any assistance. By the way I don’t suppose you’ve seen Blair around, have you? He said he was going to do some shopping here this morning.” 

“Your partner, Detective? No. No, I haven’t seen him, not since arriving here anyway. Sorry.” 

Nodding distractedly, Jim ducked under the tape, and crossed over to where he could see H and Rafe questioning two sets of witnesses. Rafe was talking quietly to two young girls, who were dressed up as if they were on the way home from a night of clubbing, and H was occupied with what appeared to be two homeless men. 

Seeing Jim approach, Rafe gently excused himself from the two obviously upset young women, and walked over to speak to the older detective. 

“Hi, Jim, what’re you doing here? I thought you and Blair were taking the day off to do some hiking?” 

“That was the general idea, Brian,” Jim replied ruefully. “But he didn’t come back from a shopping trip to this area, so I came looking. And now I’m officially worried. You know what a trouble magnet he is. If there’s anything bad going down, I’m afraid he might be involved in it. He never could stand by if he thought he could be of any help.” 

“God, I hope not, Jim! Because if these witnesses are anything to go by, there was a serious mugging here only a short while ago, and a kidnapping too. Let’s hope that Hairboy had already left by then. Perhaps he’s back at the loft by now?” the young detective added hopefully, although like Jim, he feared the worst. Blair’s reputation for being in the wrong place at the wrong time preceded him, since it had happened only too often since he’d started riding with Jim. 

Having spotted Jim, and overhearing part of his conversation with Rafe, H strode over and clapped Jim on the shoulder, his normally cheerful face tight with concern. 

“Hey, Jimbo. I heard you say that Hairboy’s missing? Look, man, I don’t want to jump to conclusions here, but it could well be that he was here, man. We need to get these witness statements down, and hopefully some decent descriptions, but from what I’ve just heard, a young, curly haired man was definitely one of the victims.” 

“Shit!” Jim muttered feelingly. “I should have guessed! Look, I’m going to call the loft, just in case, but if there’s no reply, I’m going to call Simon at home, OK? And then, if it’s OK with you, I’d like to look at the scene myself. See if I can spot anything?” 

Both younger detectives nodded their agreement. They both respected Jim and his sterling record as a detective. And if he appeared to have some sort of ‘edge’, well, they tried not to question it. Whatever it was, it seemed to be something that Hairboy helped him with, and his increasingly improving arrest and conviction rate benefited the whole department, so who were they to complain?  


\------------------------------------  


**Later, Simon Banks’ office, Cascade Major Crimes Unit:**  


Jim was prowling again, his movements not unlike those of a large, caged jungle cat, only this time it was around Simon’s office. And although his captain was genuinely concerned for both his best detective and said detective’s unofficial partner, the constant pacing was getting on his nerves. 

“For God’s sake, Jim, sit down, man! I know how worried you must be – Hell, I’m worried enough about the kid, so it must be far worse for you. But all you’re doing is giving me a headache, Jim. So sit down, and let’s go through what we know so far, OK? H and Rafe should be back soon with whatever the sketch artist’s been able to come up with.” 

Lips thinning in irritation, Jim had to forcibly clamp down on the urge to snap at his boss, but after a moment, his shoulders slumped a little in defeat as he recognised his captain and friend’s real desire to understand where he was coming from and help both him and his missing partner. Pulling up a chair, he sank down into it, and leaned forward, hands clasped between his knees as he stared at the floor for a long moment trying to ‘find his centre’ as Blair would say. 

After a while, he raised his head and met Simon’s worried gaze, his ice blue eyes telegraphing such deep anxiety and despair that the older man almost winced in sympathy. 

“OK, Captain. You’re right, and I realise it’s not helping. It’s just that I feel so _helpless_ right now, and I need to be _doing_ something! This inactivity is driving me insane, Simon, and although I know it’s only been a few hours, I’m worried sick about what Blair must be going through. I mean, if those witnesses are to be believed, he was tossed in the trunk of that car along with what could possibly be an already dead body! How in hell will he be able to cope with that? Shit, he’s such a tender-hearted soul; it’ll freak him out for sure!” 

“Stop that right now, Jim!” Simon growled in response. “I realise that you know him better than any of us in the department, but I think he’s tougher than you give him credit for. Sure, he’ll be distressed, but he’s a stubborn little cuss, thank God, so I believe he’ll do everything he can to survive. He loves you, man, and he wouldn’t willingly leave you or let you down.” 

Jim regarded him intently for a moment, trying to take in what his friend was really saying. 

“What do you mean by that, Simon? _He loves me?_ I mean, sure, he’s been a good friend, and he’s helped me a lot, but at the end of the day, I’m just his study subject, and as soon as he’s finished that damned dissertation, he’ll be on his way, and I’ll be on my own again.” 

“Oh, good grief, Jim!” Simon spluttered in disbelief. “How can you say that? You’re the one with the enhanced senses, man! How can you not see how he worships the ground you walk on? And how can you not notice that he lights up like Christmas when you praise him for something, even as he’s nearly reduced to tears when you bawl him out for some minor indiscretion. He loves you, Jim. The man, not just the sentinel. In fact, I’d go as far as saying he’s _in love_ with you!” 

Once again Jim had to curb his automatic desire to scoff at his friend’s unexpected contention as his mind tried to get to grips with the possibility that Simon might be correct. However, after a few moments’ near-panicked consideration, he shut down firmly on that train of thought. Time enough to face up to the possible changes in his and Blair’s relationship once the kid was back home; safe in the loft and Jim’s territory where he belonged. 

Jim was spared the necessity of making any reply by the arrival of H and Rafe, all other topics shelved while the four of them pulled together everything they had learned so far. Once the newly arrived detectives were seated, Simon started the ball rolling at once. 

“OK, gentlemen. I’ll run through what I understand has happened, and you can add information or correct me as we go along. I’ve read your witnesses’ statements, and it seems to me that they are remarkably similar where they overlap, so at least I believe we have a good starting point. They all agree on the type of vehicle used, even if they’re not all sure of the make, and one of the girls was able to provide a partial plate number, am I right?” 

“Yes, sir,” Rafe responded eagerly. “Although the two homeless men weren’t near enough to note more than the colour and size, Amber Sutcliffe, one of the girls, recognised the car as a large, older style, dark blue Cadillac, and said that it had a vanity plate. She said that her Granddad had one just like it so she was certain she’d identified it correctly. We already have a city and state-wide APB out on the vehicle, and all being well, should get some results soon.” 

“Good. That’s good,” Simon replied, although all of them knew that it was only too likely that the kidnappers would abandon the vehicle as soon as possible, if they hadn’t already done so. But if it could be traced, it would be a place to start, because Forensics would have something to work with. And so would Jim, more importantly. Because he had already confirmed to his own satisfaction that Blair had indeed been present in the store, even though the fact that he had identified his partner’s unique scent, tainted though it was by fear and distress, wasn’t admissible as concrete evidence. It was enough to secure his colleagues’ belief, however, and they acted accordingly. Even Megan and Joel had insisted on coming in on their day off to do their bit, which at the moment involved conducting a door-to-door enquiry in the immediate vicinity of the store in the hope of gleaning a little more relevant information. 

“Right. Moving on,” Simon continued grimly. “I gather that the store keeper, - a Mr…Ahmed Mahmoud - wasn’t any help?” 

“That’s correct, sir,” H replied, his normally jovial expression absent as it had been ever since he had been called to the scene. “Apparently he and his son, who helps him in the shop, were in the storeroom doing some stocktaking when the door was slammed shut on them. Neither of them saw who did it, and they were only released once the attack was over, and the patrolmen who were first on the scene heard them yelling and hammering on the door.” 

“Humph!” Simon huffed, his frustration plain to see. “So, anyway, what else had the girls to say? Let’s see. They both claim to have been on their way home from a night on the town, and both gave nearly identical statements when questioned separately. They said that although they couldn’t see what had gone down in the alley, they both saw two men drag what seemed to be a body out and throw it in the trunk of the car that pulled up outside the shop. And they also both saw another man exiting the shop, carrying another man they both tentatively ID’d as Blair, who was also dumped in the trunk. And as the car pulled away, Amber Sutcliffe had the wherewithal to try and see the plate. OK so far?” and he looked enquiringly from Rafe to H and back. 

“That’s right, Captain,” H replied, as Rafe nodded his assent. “We’re just waiting on the completed artist’s impressions they provided of the three perps they could see – not including the driver, that is, because the car’s windows were heavily tinted – and hopefully they’ll approximate with those given by the homeless guys.” 

“But correct me if I’m wrong; the homeless guys saw what went down in the alley because they’d been sleeping rough behind the dumpsters, but didn’t see what happened in the shop, am I right?” 

“That’s correct, Captain,” Rafe agreed. “But taking all four statements together, the overall picture’s pretty clear. Now we just need to track down these bastards and find out what was behind the original attack, and why one of them decided to take Blair along for the ride.” 

A knock on the door heralded the arrival of the sketch artist, who handed over her pad of completed drawings. 

“Here you go, Detective Brown,” she murmured with a small, sad smile. “I hope these help. The witnesses did a pretty good job, so maybe we’ll get lucky and get Mr Sandburg back quickly,” and with a smile and nod to them all, she withdrew, leaving them to study her handiwork. 

The top set of impressions was of the two thugs in the alley, and all were remarkably similar, even if they might be of limited use. Both men had been described as big, well-muscled types, but they had both worn plain, non-descript dark clothing and wraparound sunglasses so that their eye colour couldn’t be determined. However, in all examples their facial features were fairly well described, and one of them had a shaven head and goatee while his partner-in-crime had a white blond buzz cut. H passed the pictures around for the others to study and compare, and turned to the next set, his face taking on a puzzled expression as he scanned them. 

“What’s up, H?” Jim demanded, immediately aware of the younger detective’s unease. 

“It’s this one, Jim,” H answered slowly. “It’s the guy in the shop. He looks familiar somehow. What do you think? Do you know him?” 

Jim took the sketches and stared at them in horror and disbelief. If they were as accurate, then Blair was in real trouble. Looking up to meet his colleagues’ intent and quizzical gazes in turn, he breathed shakily, “Shit, H, guys. If this is who I think it is, then we’re all in for a world of pain, Blair especially. 

“I think this is Lee Brackett.”  


\-------------------------------------  


**Blair:**  


Hot. Very hot. And very stuffy. Those were Blair’s first waking impressions as he clawed his way slowly to consciousness. _‘Must’ve gotten tangled in the bedcovers’,_ he mused distractedly. _‘But if it’s not high summer, then perhaps Jim’s turned the heating up for a change.’_

He discovered that he was scrunched up in a very awkward and uncomfortable position, and his nose itched annoyingly, so he set about trying to disentangle himself and scratch the irritating spot. Only to find that he couldn’t move his hands. At all. They were trapped beneath him, and when he cracked open his eyes to assess the situation, his immediate thought was that he had either gone blind, or he was entombed in total darkness. With growing panic driving him towards full awareness, he made a gargantuan effort to force himself to listen and remain as calm as possible in an attempt to identify his whereabouts. _‘Breathe, Sandburg, breathe! Focus on your surroundings.’_ And once he had set his mind to it, it really didn’t take any time at all to recognise the humming of tyres on pavement and identify the faintly oily smell of a car’s interior, while the rough carpet beneath his cheek felt gritty and synthetic. 

He was in the trunk of a car big enough to take two. Just. Which is why he was squeezed in so tightly. _‘Ohgodohgodohgod! Jim?’_ Was he trapped in a car with Jim? But no. _‘No way,’_ the still functioning, rational part of his brain assured him. _‘Jim didn’t come shopping with you, and whoever this is doesn’t smell or feel like Jim. I’d know him anywhere! But he does smell awful! I think I might be sick….’_ And he groaned in discomfort as he battled with the desire to vomit, distracting himself with the need to do something positive. _‘Come on, Sandburg, concentrate! Remember what happened, dammit!’_

And suddenly it all came back to him. The attack he had witnessed; and being tackled and rendered unconscious by Lee Brackett of all people. He was undoubtedly locked in a car trunk with the victim of the assault, whoever it was, and horror of horrors, he realised that whoever it was didn’t seem to be breathing. Dead? _‘Just like a shared coffin!’_ And suddenly there was no air, and the reek of blood and faeces from the cooling body threatened to overwhelm him. 

And that was the last straw. Blair lost it, and screamed in panic and fury, a surge of adrenalin-fuelled strength enough to get his feet moving to kick at the trunk lid with as much force as the cramped space would allow. 

He had no concept of how long his frantic yelling and kicking actually went on for, because just before his almighty panic attack finally rendered him unconscious again, the car pulled up, and the trunk popped open. He was in no condition to register the strong hands that grabbed him and hauled him out of his horrific temporary prison to be tossed unceremoniously into the back of an anonymous panel van. Neither did he realise then that the other body had been left in situ as the four man team of attackers abandoned the sedan in the deep shadow of a derelict warehouse and drove away in the van. Barely conscious, and totally drained in the aftermath of the adrenalin surge, all Blair could do was lie limp and motionless on the van’s floor, pulling much-needed, relatively fresh air into his oxygen-starved lungs and still fighting the urge to throw up.  


\---------------------------------------  


Although Blair didn’t actually pass out, it was some little time before he felt together enough to move. Pushing himself up on shaky arms, he immediately felt the cold touch of a gun barrel press against his cheek, and a quiet but deadly voice murmured in his ear, “I wouldn’t do that, Mr Sandburg. Stay down and behave, or you won’t like the consequences.” 

Blair had no choice but to do as he was told, but this time his resurgent curiosity and stubborn resilience allowed him to make a concerted effort to absorb every bit of relevant information he could from his vulnerable prone position on the van floor. Despite his limited range of vision, he realised that he was lying between the two thugs from the alley, who were seated on either side of him, and he could just make out the silhouette of Brackett in the passenger seat next to the driver. 

As if he was aware of Blair’s scrutiny, Brackett turned to look over his shoulder, a mocking grin on his face as his bright eyes studied Blair in return. 

“Back with us, then, little guide? Although I can’t say I blame you for flipping out like that. Your companion in the trunk was in rather a messy condition after all. Perhaps it’s just as well that you couldn’t actually see him too. But I’d have thought that riding with your estimable sentinel would have begun to harden you to such things by now. 

“Then again, you always were soft-hearted, weren’t you, little guide? Too generous for your own good, one might say. But I’m sure that such irritating humanitarianism won’t last once I get you to where I want you. Or should I say, where your government wants you?” 

Blair couldn’t help himself. Brackett’s deliberately demeaning nickname and patronising tone pushed all his buttons, and for a moment his shame and anger overrode his fear. Frowning darkly he snarled, “Don’t kid yourself, Brackett! Right now generosity is the last sentiment I’m feeling towards you! Who the hell was stupid enough to let you loose anyway?” 

His reward for his smart-mouthed riposte was a sharp kick in the side, but even as he winced in pain, he could see that if anything, Brackett was amused by his pitiful attempt at antagonism. 

“Oh ho, so the little guide has grown a pair, has he?” the other man chuckled. “Why am I not surprised? This will make things so much more interesting, I’m sure. But enough of this banter. Time you had another little nap, _Little Guide!”_ And he sneered derisively as one of the thugs leaned down quickly and pressed a hypodermic into the exposed flesh of Blair’s neck. Seconds later, Blair was out for the count again.  


\------------------------------------  


**Meanwhile, back in Simon Banks’ office:**  


Simon surveyed the sombre faces of the frustrated and dispirited team gathered in his office, feeling much the same grim emotions himself. So far there had been little progress in the search for Blair, and a thorough examination of the alley by both Jim and the forensics team had only revealed one major piece of evidence related to the alleged attack; the baseball bat that the homeless witnesses identified as the probable murder weapon. There were no fingerprints on it, however, although traces of blood and hair would provide comparable DNA evidence if the victim’s body was ever discovered. Jim’s enhanced vision had picked out drag marks leading to the alley’s entrance, but the whole place was so dirty and trash-filled that no other relevant material evidence could be identified. 

Having said that, more in-depth questioning of the surprisingly cooperative witnesses had provided a much clearer picture of how the attack apparently went down. Even allowing for the two men’s probable drug and alcohol dependency, independent of each other they both offered a fairly detailed, similar account. They admitted that the alley was a favourite site for them to go ‘dumpster diving’, as the small amount of foodstuff and other products Mr Mahmoud and his fellow environmentally aware shopkeepers were forced to discard still tended to be of far better quality than what they normally found outside of regular supermarkets and chain restaurants. They had both been searching through the newly-discarded offerings when they heard footsteps approaching, and peeked out of their hiding place in the dumpster to see three figures exit a door at the closed off end of the alley. Both men stated that the newcomers seemed to be at ease with each other, and there was no suggestion of apprehension in the smallest of the three men, who was walking slightly ahead of the other two. Exercising prudence learned the hard way through their harsh life on the streets; the witnesses kept quiet and still enough to remain undiscovered. 

However, before they reached the dumpsters and the better lit part of the alley, one of the men pulled a baseball bat out from beneath a pile of rags where it had no doubt been stashed in readiness, and brought it down on the unprotected skull of the smaller man. The attack was so sudden and unexpected that the victim had no chance to make a sound, and probably died instantly, although the other two men continued to kick and beat the fallen body for some minutes to make sure. They then discarded the bat in the dumpster next to the one in which the witnesses were hiding, and seizing the body, dragged it towards the entrance of the alley where they were met by the big sedan. Further investigation of the door identified by the witnesses bore little fruit as it turned out to be the back entrance of a closed and abandoned small business workshop, which provided no other clue but that it had served as an opportune and clandestine meeting place. 

On top of that, the door-to-door enquiry carried out by Megan and Joel had turned up nothing of interest, such that the MCU team were presently clueless as to how to progress their search. 

Looking up to meet Simon’s concerned gaze, Jim sighed heavily, his jaw tight with tension as his anger and frustration etched deep lines between his brows. “This is crazy, sir,” he growled out, voicing his and his colleagues’ opinion. “It’s been hours now, and nothing! No ransom demand, no sign of the car, and nothing to report from any of the patrols! For God’s sake, even if Blair was only taken as an afterthought, surely we would have heard something by now!” 

“I know, Jim. It’s more than frustrating, but have a little more patience. I’m certain we’ll have something to go on soon. Perhaps Jack Kelso will turn something up? I mean, if it really is Lee Brackett, who else is better placed to find out who or what’s behind his escape – or release!” 

Jim nodded wearily. Simon was right. Kelso might well be their best source of information under the circumstances. The wheelchair-bound professor was a colleague of Blair’s, but in an earlier life had been a top CIA agent before becoming seriously disillusioned. His damning exposé of the agency in question had rattled many covert ops cages, but he had retained many of his resources, and was very fond of Blair to boot. If anyone could come up with a reason behind Brackett’s presence, it would be Kelso. But why the ex-agent would take Blair with him, Jim didn’t dare guess, although he feared it might be as a way to get to him. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time Brackett had sought to use Jim’s particular abilities for nefarious purposes. 

His distressing train of thought was derailed abruptly by the ringing of Simon’s desk phone, and as the big captain grabbed the handset, all the room’s other occupants unconsciously leaned forwards anxiously in their seats, hoping to learn something of use. 

Megan in particular cast a worried glance at Jim, squeezing his shoulder briefly as she too waited to hear what Simon had to report. Of all of Jim’s colleagues, apart from Simon, she was the one with the best concept of what Blair meant to Jim, even if she didn’t know the real reason behind it, and, like Joel, she had a particular soft spot for her mate Sandy. 

Offering the Aussie Inspector a brief nod of appreciation, Jim concentrated on listening in unashamedly to both sides of the telephone conversation, so was the first to learn that the Cadillac had been found, and that although there was a body in the trunk, it wasn’t Blair. Even as a measure of relief flooded through him, he was careful not to reveal his emotions as he was still wary of exposing his hypersensitivity even to his closest colleagues. 

Carefully setting down the handset, Simon looked up to meet his team’s rapt gazes, his expression still fearsome, but tinged with a little hope. 

“That was Lt Saunders from the 14th Precinct, Harborside. He says that one of his patrols has found what we assume is the getaway car abandoned in a derelict warehouse. There is a body in the trunk, but it’s definitely not Sandburg. The body’s being transported here to Central so that Dan Wolf can do the autopsy, and I’ve requested that the car be towed here also once the forensics team has checked out the scene. I want you to look it over,” he added pointedly, meeting Jim’s stern gaze and receiving a small nod of understanding. If anyone could tell whether Blair had also been in that trunk, it would be Jim. 

Jim looked around him, noting the renewed determination on his friends’ faces. Now they had something to work with at last, and if the body could be ID’d, and Kelso could come up with some new information, perhaps it wouldn’t be too long until Blair was located and rescued. 

He had to believe that. The alternative was unthinkable.  


\------------------------------------------  


**Part 2: An Unexpected Motive:**  


**Following day, in an isolated location outside Boise, Idaho:**  


For Blair, the return to consciousness this time was even worse than before, undoubtedly because it embodied the unpleasant side-effects arising from chemically induced oblivion. His mouth was dry, and soured with a disgusting, metallic aftertaste, and his eyes refused to open at his first attempt, feeling heavy-lidded and crusted with sleep. Too exhausted and muzzy to persevere, he gave up on that for a while, trying instead to use his other senses to take stock of his situation, only to find that his normally agile brain felt as torpid as if his skull was stuffed with cotton batting. The necessary thought processes simply refused to cooperate and evaluate whatever information they were receiving. One thing he knew instinctively though was that if he tried to move anytime soon, he would undoubtedly throw up, as it was only his current feeble immobility keeping the incipient nausea at bay. It was just as well then that he didn’t yet have the urge to do anything of the sort, and on that vaguely reassuring thought, he sank unresistingly once again into a more natural sleep. 

The next time he resurfaced some hours later, he was much more alert, but thanks to the drug’s slowly receding after-effects, actually felt much more uncomfortable in himself. His eyelids still fought his efforts to raise them, although he did manage to crack one open slightly only to slam it shut again as the light from an overhead bulb seemed to scorch down his optic nerve to pierce his still aching head and vulnerable brain. However, feeling a little more confident, he carefully flexed his limbs, relieved to find that the urge to vomit had diminished somewhat. _‘Good, need to move’,_ he thought, his mind far less sluggish by this time. He realised that he must have been lying on his side in what was virtually a recovery position for far too long, and his cramped limbs demanded a change. His stressed bladder was also sending alarm signals, so he gathered his courage in order to make the necessary moves to relieve the situation. 

And found to his utter dismay that his wrists and ankles were restrained with some sort of cuffs linked by chains, barely long enough to allow a little restricted movement. 

Fully alert now, his eyes flew open and he gasped in shock, at last assimilating all the terrifying details of his surroundings and his current physical state. 

Stripped down to his underwear, he was lying on a bare mattress in a sparsely-furnished room, lit by a single, bright and unshaded light bulb hanging from the ceiling above the metal-framed bed. He wasn’t cold, however, so there had to be some form of heating, and in a tiny part of his mind he supposed he should be grateful for small mercies. 

On the other hand, the wide, padded leather cuffs around wrists and ankles were far too reminiscent of bondage gear for his peace of mind, and the fact that the short length of chain linking the ankle cuffs together was clipped to another longer length securely locked to the bed’s foot rail indicated that whoever was still holding him prisoner – presumably Brackett – was ensuring that there was to be no easy escape. 

He was still trying to get to grips with his predicament when the door opened, and despite himself, he couldn’t help but flinch back at the sight of a grinning Lee Brackett appearing before him, his handsome face alight with sardonic amusement as he virtually leered at his distressed captive. 

However, despite his heart threatening to hammer its way out of his chest, Blair found himself reacting in anger, his fury and indignation thrusting aside his terror as he glared defiantly at his nemesis. 

“It won’t work, Brackett!” he hissed. “You won’t get Jim to cooperate this way, whatever you think. You’re wasting your time holding me to ransom!” And was utterly bewildered when Brackett threw back his head and laughed heartily in genuine delight. 

Finally controlling his mirth and wiping a trace of moisture from his eye, Lee shook his head in mocking denial as his eyes sparkled with glee and a touch of sympathy. “Oh, Blair, Blair! You are so wrong, little guide. In fact, you couldn’t be more wrong! Although it’s true I hadn’t expected to find you so easily, I would have come looking for you as soon as I had the chance. It’s _you_ and _your_ talent I need, little guide. You’re worth a lot to me. Maybe even enough to earn me a full pardon, although I suspect that’s hoping for too much. I don’t need the abilities of a middle-aged sentinel cop any more, and neither does the government, so you needn’t worry your pretty little head about me trying to capture Ellison. And for your sake, I’ll try not to kill him either, OK?” 

To say that Blair was completely dumbfounded would be an understatement. He had absolutely no idea what Brackett was getting at and for a moment his brain simply refused to get to grips with the concept that not only was Jim apparently safe from being recalled to duty, but that he himself could have anything worthwhile to offer whatever clandestine branch of alphabet soup Brackett now reported to. This had to be some sort of sick joke, for sure. Brackett was just mind-fucking him. Wasn’t he? 

As far as Lee was concerned, he was genuinely amused at the puzzlement on his captive’s attractive face. Sandburg was indeed incredibly cute when he frowned, the magnificent blue eyes sparking with both aggravation and confusion and the lush lips pouting delectably. Why Ellison wasn’t nailing his pretty ass to the mattress, Lee had no idea, but he already knew that that wasn’t happening. He’d always thought that Ellison wasn’t as bright as he appeared, and the fact that the sentinel could live with this tempting morsel and not fuck him senseless confirmed his belief. Time to tell the little guide a few home truths. This should be fun. 

Making himself comfortable on the bed, sitting just out of range of his captive’s restrained fists and feet, Lee smiled appreciatively at the feisty young man before him. “I can see you’re just dying to ask me for a full explanation, aren’t you, little guide? You always were an inquisitive one, and I like that about you. Too clever by half to be wasting your time hanging with a sentinel who doesn’t appreciate what he has right under his roof, if you ask me!” 

“I _wasn’t_ asking you!” Blair snipped back sharply, causing the grin on Brackett’s face to widen in delight. Sandburg was clearly regaining his confidence, and Lee was looking forward to bending the young man’s will to his own. He couldn’t contain his urge to snicker when Blair glared ferociously at him and spoke again. 

“What I’m _telling_ you, Brackett, is that unless you point me in the direction of a bathroom a.s.a.p., you’re going to have to clean up after an accident, savvy?” 

“Your wish is my command, little guide,” chuckled Lee, reaching into his pocket to retrieve the key to the padlock attaching the chain to the bed. But then he raised his head to stare steadily into Blair’s angry gaze, all mirth wiped from his face as he continued coldly, “I’m warning you, though, _Little Guide_. Don’t even think of trying to get the better of me, or you’ll regret it. _Savvy?_ ” 

And from the expression in the now hard and cruel eyes, Blair knew that Brackett wasn’t kidding, and had to repress the shudder that wanted to wrack his vulnerable frame. He had already found out from bitter experience that this man was a highly trained operative, and knew exactly how to hurt and disable without doing permanent damage. And he had absolutely no desire to undergo another practical demonstration. Swallowing his pride, he nodded wordlessly instead to indicate his assent, and tried not to flinch when the other man gripped his upper arm to help him to his feet. Needless to say, his legs felt like limp noodles, and he would have collapsed if it wasn’t for the strong arm wrapped around his waist. After a few moments of working on regaining his balance, with Brackett’s support he was able to shuffle towards the door, the chain attached to his ankle cuffs allowing him just enough leeway to take small steps. 

On the other side of the door was a shabby, windowless corridor with peeling wallpaper, and several other doors leading off from it, rather like a small hotel or apartment block, and Blair couldn’t help but peer around him, taking in as much detail as possible. Some of the doors still had numbers on them, and Brackett steered him through the door opposite theirs, which was number 13, except that the 3 was hanging upside down by one rusty nail. Blair found himself in another similar room, but this one was completely bare. And like the room he was being held in, the only window was also boarded up, so there was no chance of Blair sneaking a peek at the area in which he had ended up. Apparently it did have an en suite bathroom, though, and that’s where Brackett led him, positioning him in front of the commode. 

“There you go, little guide. Get on with it.” Brackett’s tone was light and faintly mocking, and caused Blair to glare at him in disbelief. 

“You’re not going to watch, are you? There’s no way I’ll be able to go with an audience!” And he instantly knew he’d gone too far when Brackett’s expression hardened again. 

“You’ll go when and where you’re told, Sandburg, unless you want me to do the job for you. I can and will if I have to, kiddo, and might even enjoy myself while I’m at it. So get over yourself, little guide, and do what you need!” 

That was enough for Blair, and taking a deep breath, he pushed down on the waistband of his boxers, pulled out his penis and willed himself to let go, sighing with relief as his reluctant, over-stressed bladder emptied at last. Embarrassing it might be, but far better than letting Brackett get some sort of perverted pleasure out of manhandling him. He just had to suck it up, and bide his time until he was rescued. Because there was one thing he was sure of. Jim would be looking for him, and would find him sooner or later. It might be an instinctive territorial need to protect the guide rather than for love of Blair the man, but Blair would take what he could get.  


\-------------------------------------------  


**Same morning, MCU bullpen:**  


Seated at his desk, Jim glared ferociously at his phone, willing it to ring and disgorge vital information leading to the discovery of Blair’s whereabouts, or, better yet, the glad tidings that the young man had been found safe and well. Unfortunately, despite the progress they had made the previous afternoon, they were still no nearer to understanding where Brackett was coming from, or why he should have snatched Jim’s partner. Certainly they had learned a fair amount, mostly relating to the assault and the fate of the victim, but little specifically about Blair and where his unwitting abduction fitted into the picture. Jim tried to contain his ever-increasing frustration and anxiety by running through the past few hours’ discoveries and conclusions yet again to see if he had missed anything. Anything at all which could help get his friend and guide back alive, and preferably unharmed. 

Once the abandoned Cadillac had been towed to Cascade Central’s garage, Jim had indeed checked it over with a somewhat reluctant Simon at his side to help ground him, and declared unequivocally that Blair had definitely been in the trunk. His unique scent was easily picked up by Jim’s sensitive nose, despite the almost overwhelming stink of blood and death, and sentinel sight quickly located two long, curly hairs overlooked by the forensics team that had initially checked out the car. And more importantly, Jim was able to reassure Simon that none of the blood present was Blair’s. 

Sadly, as the investigators had feared, the vehicle itself provided no other useful information, other than the fact that it had been reported stolen only two days previously by an irate couple newly returned from a world cruise, so it could have been taken at any point during their protracted vacation. There were no fingerprints inside or out, other than the victim’s bloodied and smeared ones on a small section of the trunk’s carpet trim, and, of course, the owners’, and nothing left behind that shouldn’t be there. 

As far as the victim was concerned, Dan’s preliminary examination suggested that death had indeed been almost instantaneous, and as expected, the blood and hair on the baseball bat matched the victim’s DNA. The additional damage to the body appeared to be overkill, or perhaps intended as a crude message aimed at a specific target group, but until the victim could be identified, everything else was mere conjecture. Was it gang-related, or a revenge killing, or something more sinister? With no useful information forthcoming from anyone’s trusted snitch, and the word on the street nothing but unfounded rumour, the MCU team had come to a temporary halt. Whatever they had, it wasn’t enough, and they all knew it. So all Jim could hope and pray for was that Jack Kelso could work his covert magic and produce the crucial link that would lead to Blair’s rescue. 

Reading and re-reading the paperwork on his desk, Jim pored over the ME’s report, the witness statements and the forensic evidence to no avail. He knew that the departments and individuals involved, like his colleagues in MCU, were going above and beyond in order to expedite procedures for Blair’s sake, but it still wasn’t enough, and he had to forcibly restrain himself from smashing something – anything- in his simmering anger and impatience. He was also ruefully aware that, apart from the necessary exchange of information relating to the investigation, his colleagues were generally giving him a wide berth despite their genuine sympathy for him and their concern for Blair’s safety, plainly unwilling to do or say anything to provoke an angry response from the irate and unpredictable detective. 

But in truth, Jim knew that his present emotional turmoil wasn’t simply due to lack of progress. Over the long hours since Blair’s abduction, Jim had been forced to examine his feelings regarding the whole situation in detail. He hadn’t reacted this extravagantly when Jack Pendergrast had disappeared, although Heaven knew he had cared for his ex-partner. It wasn’t even a purely selfish sense of affront and indignation that he should be disadvantaged by his new partner’s absence. Or even the undeniable, ever-present and niggling fear that it was a means to target him personally because of the senses. It was a combination of all those factors, plus the one that had hit him hardest when he had had the nerve to confront it. The fact that he loved Blair in a way he had never thought possible. As friend, guide and indispensible helpmeet. The only person he had ever encountered who completed him; who accepted him warts and all, and who had been there for him whenever he was needed without being asked. It was a sobering thought that he, Jim Ellison, had so often taken Blair for granted. Had belittled and mocked the young man on so many occasions when he should have been backing him up in the same way as Blair had always done for him. 

And now, staring sightlessly at the paper in his hand, Jim made a conscious decision. As soon as he had Blair back where he belonged, he was going to confess all of this. And beg his guide’s forgiveness, praying that the young man could be persuaded to stay with him. Be with him for ever and always in whatever relationship Blair wanted, be it as friend or life partner, although Jim fervently hoped that it would be the latter. It was past time for Jim to be honest about his true feelings, and he just had to hope that it wasn’t already too late. 

Just then, a commotion at the bullpen doors broke into his introspection, and he spun around in his seat to see Jack Kelso approaching, navigating his wheelchair as quickly as possible across the space between them, his look of intense concentration and air of urgency immediately spurring Jim into action. 

“Jack? What’s up? What do you know?” Jim rose to his feet, unintentionally looming over the other man as he spoke. 

“Not here, Ellison,” came the sharp but quiet response. “We need to take this into Captain Banks’ office, OK? This isn’t something to be discussed openly.” 

Nodding his assent, Jim turned to accompany him to Simon’s door, on which he rapped imperatively before opening it immediately to allow Kelso to precede him into the room. 

Meeting Simon’s somewhat aggrieved glare unrepentantly, he said, “Sorry about the intrusion, Captain, but Kelso here had information for us, which won’t wait.” 

Biting down on his urge to reprimand his normally courteous subordinate for his high-handed attitude, Simon studied his uninvited visitors’ grim faces for a moment before nodding briskly. “OK, gentlemen, I’m all ears. Sit yourself down, Jim, and let’s hear what Dr Kelso has to say.” 

Kelso turned his attention briefly to the thick manila folder lying on his lap, opening it to pull out a few sheets of paper before meeting first Jim’s and then Simon’s enquiring gazes. Clearing his throat, he began. 

“I’m going to tell you everything I’ve learned so far from my various sources, and once you hear it, I’m sure you’ll realise why I insisted that we keep this between the three of us for now, OK? 

“Firstly, this is what I’ve managed to glean as regards Lee Brackett’s ‘release’. Apparently, despite his various crimes, he is still regarded as one of the best agents the CIA has ever trained, so he was given one last opportunity to prove his loyalty and worth. To the best of my knowledge, he is still being monitored to make sure he doesn’t try and ‘disappear’ again, but according to my inside informant, the mission he was tasked with was intended as something of a test. If he succeeded, all well and good, and he would be welcomed back into the fold – under certain conditions, of course – but if he was either captured or killed, then he would simply be disowned and another team sent out to accomplish the mission. And it goes without saying that you’ll never apprehend the other team members. They’ll either slip back under the radar until the next time they’re needed, or be ‘retired’ once their usefulness runs out. It’s the name of the game, as you well know, Jim. 

“As you’ve probably already guessed, the task involved Brackett heading up a suitable team of reliable hit men to take down a suspected traitor, and as we now know, it was a success. The assault victim’s name – or, at least, his most recent one – identifies him as Raymond Blanchard, who, until a few weeks ago, was a senior IT administrator at Langley. There’s no question that you’ll ever get hold of his personnel file, of course, as the Agency is hardly likely to admit to his existence. 

“Anyhow, he was suspected of selling information threatening our national security to Russian intelligence, but slipped away before he was apprehended, so the decision was taken to take him out as discreetly as possible before he could leave the country. As I say, no one from the Agency will come forward to ID or claim the body, the preference being for it to be quietly disposed of in a pauper’s grave. Needless to say, there is no family extant to make waves. 

“So, to all intents and purposes, Brackett carried out his mission, but by pure chance, Blair had the bad luck to get involved. And that is where my explanation gets more complicated. And admittedly more conjectural,” he added almost apologetically as he met Jim’s dismayed look. 

“Jim, I know you’re already aware of the role Brackett played in your debriefing after Peru; at least, up to a point. It was when he recognised your particular gift, and it whetted his appetite to learn more. Over the years I understand that he’s kept a close eye on you, and when the senses re-emerged, he was ready and waiting to take advantage of them, primarily for his own gain, but also as material evidence for the ideas he wanted to sell to various government agencies and the armed forces as regards the benefit of using similarly gifted individuals. 

“Now I realise that you’re still keeping quiet about the senses, but don’t blame Blair for the fact that I’m aware of them. I’ve known and respected Blair for some years now, and have studied his body of work on tribal sentinels, and it doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together to come up with the real reason for his prolonged ride-along status. The topic of his dissertation is no secret to me or his Dissertation Committee after all. 

“But what you plainly haven’t realised, and what Brackett now has, is that it is actually the guide who is of most interest to said agencies. Or to be more specific, Blair Sandburg himself. He is, after all, probably the only existing expert on the subject of sentinels, and he has proven himself to be a gifted guide. As a teacher and a precious resource, he would be welcomed with open arms by any agency, and Brackett knows it. He’s using Blair as a bargaining chip to secure his own position and make the best deal that he can. 

“And I have to tell you, Jim, that TPTB have been aware of you for many years, so, despite what you might believe, you aren’t at risk from them. You’re too old, Jim, and too set in your ways to be recalled to duty. They want fresh blood, man. Young people who can be trained up to serve their country to the best of their ability. And that means finding and training suitable guides also. And that requires Blair’s input, either willingly given or coerced. 

“I’m sorry, Ellison, if that goes against everything you’ve believed in up until now, but it’s the truth. It’s probably wise to keep your ability secret from the criminal elements who might figure out how to take advantage of you, but there’s no way you’ll be reactivated.” 

Jim sat back in his chair, his mouth and chin cradled in one hand as he tried to assimilate Kelso’s information, his face a study in confusion and amazement. A part of him wanted to scream out in a sort of indignant and perverse pride that he _was_ still important enough to be targeted after all, but at the end of the day he was an intelligent man, and he could accept reason when it hit him where it hurt. If Kelso had the right of it, and Jim had no reason to believe otherwise, then his and Blair’s paranoia about Jim being snatched up to be thrust back into the world of black ops was unfounded. It would appear that Blair’s academic credentials and practical guiding experience was what was wanted, not an aging military type, and although that was personally galling to Jim, it also reignited his fear for Blair. Apparently the young guide was a prized commodity, and if Brackett was preparing to hand him over, he would undoubtedly disappear forever into the dark and secret world of counter intelligence and covert ops, or some obscure military research or training facility. 

Suddenly, a fleeting thought occurred to him, and he raised his head to voice his puzzlement. 

“OK, Kelso, say if I believe what you’re proposing. If the intelligence community or Special Forces were so all-fired keen to get their hands on Blair, why haven’t they moved before now? Why wait until Brackett had the unexpected good fortune to get his hands on him and offer him up as a bargaining chip?” 

Kelso shook his head. “I can’t really answer that, Jim,” he admitted. “It’s a valid point considering they’ve apparently been aware of the pair of you for some while now. But perhaps they were simply looking for an opportune moment; who’s to say? Maybe plans were already afoot to approach him, and Brackett pre-empted them. Whatever the case, if you want to get Blair back, it’s going to be a hard fight. Are you up for it? Because if you are, you can count on my assistance all the way.” 

Jim straightened up in his seat, the resolve and determination clear in his ice blue eyes. Reaching over to take Kelso’s proffered hand, he nodded firmly. “You got it, Kelso. Whatever it takes.” 

And a moment later, a large, dark-skinned hand covered their clasped ones as Simon stood and moved around his desk to join them. 

“Count me in too, Kelso, Jim. Whatever it takes. No one snatches one of mine and gets away with it!”  


\----------------------------------  


**Meanwhile, in Blair’s temporary prison:**  


Blair lay on his back on the bare mattress, his mobility severely restricted, although he wasn’t unduly uncomfortable. He had been secured this time with his hands above his head, which made him feel far more vulnerable, but at least Brackett had allowed for a limited amount of movement so he wasn’t overly strained or cramped. The chain linking his padded manacles had been threaded through the cuff of a pair of standard handcuffs, while the other cuff was attached to the bars of the bed head. Once again his ankle cuffs were attached to the longer chain locked to the foot of the bed, so there was no question of his being able to curl up into a tiny, miserable ball, which is something that he really, really wanted to do right now. Mercifully, he was alone, and had been for a while, and he had to be grateful for that. The last thing he wanted was for Brackett to see him cry. Hell, he was disgusted enough at himself for his weakness, so he definitely couldn’t have dealt with a gloating Brackett bearing witness to his despair and misery. 

Still sniffling, he turned his head to rub his tear-streaked face against the inside of his arm, trying to wipe away the worst of the mess before his captor returned. He knew his red and puffy eyes would give him away anyway, but he was determined that he wouldn’t break down again in full view, whatever Brackett might desire. But thinking about the activities and revelations of the last couple of hours was enough to make his chin quiver again, and he thought that just maybe his meltdown was justified to a certain extent.  


\------------------------------------  


As soon as they had returned from the bathroom trip, Lee had made Blair sit on the bed again, and reattached the longer chain to his ankle restraints. With a condescending pat to Blair’s head, he had left the room only to return within a few minutes with a tray of food. 

“Here you go, little guide,” he smirked. “Not haut cuisine I’m afraid, but it’ll do to keep you going for the time being. Enjoy!” and he set down a tray bearing an energy bar, some sort of energy drink, and a carton of juice with a straw. Ignoring Blair’s dismissive snort, he continued blithely, “Tuck in, little guide. I’ll just sit here and admire the view.” 

“You have to be kidding me!” Blair growled, staring at the tray in distaste. “No way am I eating that crap just because you say I have to!” 

And yet again he realised that he had overstepped the mark, and had ignited Brackett’s uncertain temper once more. 

Rising to his feet to lean threateningly over his captive, Brackett hissed, “You _will_ eat what I’ve given you, Sandburg, or I’ll force feed you myself, and I assure you it won’t be fun for either of us! Stop trying to jerk me around, _Little Guide,_ or I might just forget how valuable you are to my handlers, and fuck you until you scream for mercy! They won’t give a shit about how you feel as long as you’re still functional and not permanently damaged, and believe me, it’s something I’d really appreciate.” 

Swallowing hard, although he still managed to send a scorching glance Brackett’s way, Blair set to with marked reluctance, finishing the meagre meal in silence while Brackett looked on, a disgruntled frown on his face. 

Once the meal was done, Brackett placed the tray on the floor and settled himself at the foot of the bed again, grinning knowingly into Blair’s angry but apprehensive gaze. 

“So, little guide, are you ready to hear what I have planned for you? You never know, you might even approve of some of it. You’re a helpful soul by nature, so this might appeal to you. 

“You see, it goes like this. My people - and a few of the more enlightened ones in the higher echelons of various special forces divisions within the military - have been aware of the ‘sentinel phenomenon’ for years now, but only recently have had reason to believe that sentinels can be utilised successfully in the field. Partly thanks to me, I’m proud to say, but also because of you and your body of work on the subject. The potential role in covert ops for those with heightened senses has long been studied, but the drawbacks have outweighed the advantages to a certain extent. It simply wasn’t safe to rely on agents or servicemen who could suffer sensory spikes, or even zone out without warning in dangerous situations, and after that had happened a few times the decision was made to put the training programme on hold. But then along you came, you clever little soul! Not only did you provide them with an outstanding amount of additional academic data, but you demonstrated just how important the role of the guide actually is. Your years of riding with Ellison provided them with incontrovertible proof that the sentinel is only as good as his backup allows him to be. And you appear to be particularly talented in that role, little guide. You know instinctively what Ellison needs, and provide the necessary support whether he appreciates it or not. And I know for a fact that you have been painstakingly noting down every last detail for inclusion in your paper. 

“So, what I intend to do is to hand you over to those who _will_ appreciate you. Who will take your work seriously, and will expect you to work with young servicemen and women, or agents if need be, training both sentinels and guides to work together for the benefit of our country. Just think what a great service you will be doing us all! You should be proud of your talent, little guide!” 

As he had been speaking, Blair had been growing increasingly disturbed. This couldn’t be happening! He’d assumed – hoped, rather – that Brackett’s earlier comments were just intended to rattle him; throw him for a loop while he was still disorientated from the drugs in his system. The man just had to be yanking his chain, trying to upset him for his own sick amusement. No way could any of his claims be true. Because if they were, then he, Blair Sandburg, was considered to be more important than Jim. And that couldn’t be right. Couldn’t be. He was just an academic. An irritating tagalong barely tolerated by Simon Banks, who occasionally managed to offer Jim assistance basically through trial and error. His habitually low self-esteem insisted that he could be of no value to anyone except Jim, and even that was rarely remarked upon or acknowledged by the man himself. 

But he had to know, so he met Brackett’s smugly enquiring gaze with a narrow-eyed glare. 

“Even if I was to actually believe what you’re saying is true, which I don’t, what’s in it for you, Brackett? You’re not known for your philanthropy, for sure. What do you hope to gain by selling me to the highest bidder? Do you really think your people will consider little ole’ me worth anything?” 

“Oh, they do, dear boy, I assure you,” Brackett smirked, his attitude annoyingly condescending. “And if I play my cards right, not only will I prove my worth as their best agent, but I might get a substantial financial bonus also. Not so shabby considering that only recently I was looking at a lifetime of captivity. Then again, there might well be even better opportunities out there to consider. Being given the chance to disappear without trace to live a life of luxury is certainly appealing also. I’ll have to think very carefully before I make my decision.” 

“And of course it doesn’t bother you that _I’ll_ be the one looking at a life of captivity, does it?” Blair snipped back. “Not that it’ll come to that,” he added with assumed bravado. “Jim’ll come for me, and there won’t be anything you can do about it. He needs me!” 

“Oh, Blair!” Brackett sighed in faux sympathy. “You’re so naïve, little guide. It’s true that Ellison might think about trying to find you – his instinct to protect the guide is real enough after all. But unless he gets very lucky, he won’t find you in time. And if he does, well, I’ll be waiting. 

“But he already believes he doesn’t need you, Blair. He never wanted his gift, now did he? And he seems perfectly happy to just be a good cop, and he doesn’t need you for that. You might as well go somewhere where you’ll be able to do some real good.” 

“He _does_ need me!” Blair cried in growing distress. “He will come for me! He cares what happens to me!” 

“No, Blair!” Lee contradicted, his tone brooking no argument. “If he really cared for you, he wouldn’t be blind to the fact that you love him! You do, don’t you, little guide? He should appreciate your love and your beauty, and if he had any sense at all – no pun intended – he would take you to bed and not let you leave it! But he doesn’t. He doesn’t deserve you.” 

“No, you’re wrong! It’s not like that. He doesn’t hang that way!” Blair almost wailed in defiance. “He’s straight, Brackett! You know it! For the goddess’ sake, man, he was _married!”_

“And how long did that last, little guide? Ask yourself why _that_ didn’t work out! Hell, I can give you plenty of lurid tales about what your precious Jim got up to when he was in Vice! It’s _you_ he’s not attracted to, Blair baby! Not because you’re a man. Just because you’re not what he wants--” 

And that was too much for Blair. Screaming in denial, he hurled himself at Brackett, not knowing exactly what he intended, except to shut the man up. And seconds later found himself on his back with Brackett straddling his waist as he quickly restrained Blair’s arms above his head. 

His expression now strangely concerned, Brackett gazed down on the distraught young man, his words and tone unaccustomedly gentle as he murmured, “I’m sorry, Blair. Truly. Why he can’t see you – love you – I don’t understand. But it is what it is, Beautiful Blair. I’m sorry!” and he quickly dropped a kiss between the huge, devastated blue eyes that stared accusingly up at him. Deep pools of misery that he had deliberately stirred up for his own gratification. But now, as he carefully climbed off the bed, he found to his surprise that he felt none of the satisfaction he thought he should have. Instead he felt sorrow. Real sorrow for the disillusioned and broken young guide whose bubble he had burst so cruelly. 

Feeling more disgusted with himself than he could ever recall experiencing in the past, he quietly withdrew and left the guide to mourn his lost dreams in private.  


\------------------------------------  


**Part 3: A Resolution of Sorts:**  


**Conference Room, Cascade PD MCU:**  


The Major Crimes Conference Room was a hive of activity, humming with the sounds of muted telephone conversations and the clicking of keystrokes as a determined group of dedicated colleagues continued their avid search for information. Ever since Kelso’s visit, Simon had designated the large room as a sort of ‘War Room’. A base from which his people could work in close proximity in their endeavour to locate and rescue Blair Sandburg. The young man might doubt that he was in any way valued by the department, but the sight of all this concerted effort on his behalf would surely reassure him of his true worth. The detectives involved; specifically Jim, Joel, H, Rafe, Megan and Simon himself; were augmented by other willing MCU personnel as and when time permitted, and of course, by Jack Kelso, who was more or less directing the operation. As the hours slipped inexorably by, their efforts doubled and re-doubled, each of them knowing that time was running out for Blair. It had been 72 hours since Blair’s abduction, and if Kelso was correct in his assumption, Brackett must be getting very close to handing the young guide over to whichever agency or branch of the military could offer him the most rewarding terms. 

At the forefront of the group, Jim worked diligently, his mind cold and focussed as he called in every marker and pumped every contact he had for the slightest clue as to Blair’s whereabouts. He couldn’t allow himself to think beyond what needed to be done lest he shatter into a million pieces under the weight and power of his resolutely repressed pain and despair. Time enough for emotional reactions once Blair’s fate was known, one way or the other. 

Grinding his teeth in barely-controlled frustration as his latest line of enquiry turned up nothing of value, he tried not to imagine what Blair must be suffering under Brackett’s hands. And he also tried not to clock-watch, painfully aware of every passing second; every wasted minute that his young guide remained out of his reach. 

Just then, Kelso wheeled his chair up to Jim’s desk, and a flash of fragile hope sparked in Jim’s eyes as he noted the other man’s intent expression. “What is it, Jack? Have you got something?” Jim asked, his voice low but urgent. 

“To be honest, I’m not sure,” Kelso began carefully, not wanting to get Jim’s hopes up too much. However, he couldn’t disguise his own growing excitement as he continued. “It’s a possible lead, but one probably worth following up on. One of my inside informants has turned up a bit more information about Brackett’s mission. Seems he overheard part of a conversation between one of Brackett’s handlers and one of the agents assigned to keep him under surveillance. Brackett managed to give his watchers the slip when he separated from the other team members near Seattle, but the agent thinks he’s tracked his target – and presumably Blair also – to an area to the north of Boise, Idaho, somewhere in the Boise National Forest. No specific coordinates, but apparently they’re going to send a team in to conduct a search rather than wait until Brackett chooses to reveal his plan. If Banks is agreeable, I think we should head out that way ourselves. This is an occasion where your specific gifts could be indispensible,” he added with a knowing look. “The area my source indicated is pretty wild and sparsely populated.” 

Jim straightened up in his seat, steely determination in his eyes as he smiled grimly at his friend. 

“You’re right, Jack. I’m sure of it!” he replied, his conviction clear to see. “Call it a gut instinct if you will, but I believe you’re on the right track. Even if we can’t convince Simon to commit to a course of action requiring a team effort, I intend to go anyway. It’s the best lead we have, and I’ll find Blair or die trying!” 

At that moment, Simon entered the room, having just returned from an unavoidable, scheduled inter-departmental policy meeting with the Chief and Commissioner. His scowling face bore evidence of his aggravation at the distraction, but at least his superiors had shown genuine concern over the missing observer, and had reassured him that they would back his department’s search where appropriate. 

Heading straight for Jim’s desk, he took in the air of controlled excitement in both Jim and Jack Kelso’s demeanours and tilted his head questioningly as he met their steady gazes. “OK, guys, give!” he said, already anticipating some sort of optimistic revelation. “What’s happened that I should know about? Because I tell you now, I could do with some good news!” 

“Jack thinks he’s got a lead, sir, and I for one am convinced that he’s on the right track,” Jim began. “I think you might want to call the guys together to hear this, to save Jack repeating himself.” 

Nodding his assent, Simon quickly looked around the room, and seeing that all the major players in the team were present, called for their attention. 

“OK, people, gather round. Jack here has something to tell you, so make yourselves comfortable!” 

As one the other detectives settled around the large table in the centre of the room, all of their expressions reflecting some degree of eager anticipation as they gazed expectantly at Kelso. 

Keeping his delivery succinct and matter-of-fact, Kelso repeated his information; quietly gratified to witness the enthusiasm and tentative hope blooming in the rapt faces. Only Simon’s sombre features betrayed the ambivalence he was experiencing over what he was hearing. On one hand he was as pleased as his colleagues obviously were that they finally had a feasible lead to work with, but as a commanding officer, he also knew that his options were limited by the rules and protocols that existed between different law enforcement agencies. And although his people were undoubtedly aware of that fact, he suspected that for Blair’s sake they would be prepared to ignore such strictures on this occasion, and it was going to be up to him to deflate their hopes. 

When Kelso had finished, the others looked expectantly at their boss, only to see him scratch his chin with one large hand before pushing up beneath his wire-rimmed spectacles to rub at his closed eyes with thumb and forefinger. He was deliberately giving himself a few moments to consider his response, but when he was ready, he straightened his spectacles and gazed around him at his perplexed and inquisitive team, knowing that he was going to disappoint them, but hopefully only to a certain extent. 

“Well, Dr Kelso, you’ve certainly given me something to think about!” he began, his expression wry. “As it happens, I also believe that this is our best lead so far, and I trust both your judgement and your sources. However, there’s no way I can sanction any official follow-up. Obviously it’s out of our jurisdiction anyway, with the location being in another state, and since the crime of kidnapping is involved, I should really bring in the FBI. Having said that,” he continued quickly, holding up his hand imperiously to stem the resulting outbreak of angry and disbelieving comments, “I don’t really want to have to go down that route. Whenever we’ve had the misfortune to work with the ‘fibbies’ in the past, the results have been less than satisfactory. And I for one don’t want to see Sandburg end up as collateral damage in some ill-tempered confrontation between local FBI agents and CIA covert ops types. 

“So, what I propose is this. Jim,” he said, meeting the sentinel’s steady gaze, “you have a good bit of leave coming up, don’t you? I hear that Boise National Forest is well worth a visit. You might care to check it out. Perhaps Megan might like to see some of our great outdoors also,” he added, with a sardonic grin. He almost chuckled aloud at the frown that darkened Jim’s patrician features at his suggestion, even as he noted the Aussie Inspector’s enthusiastic nod of assent. However, the disappointment on the other team members’ faces was marked. 

“I’m sorry Joel, H, Rafe, but I can’t spare you too. Because it just so happens that I could do with a break also, so I’ll need you to hold the fort for a couple of days while I’m gone. Joel, I’ll need you to act as temporary Captain, OK?” 

At his words, much of their initial dismay faded as the three men accepted what their boss was implying. He would be accompanying Jim and Megan also, and Joel knew he was best qualified to take command, even as H and Rafe knew they were needed here. After all, in Cascade crime stopped for no man. Or woman, for that matter. 

Decision made, there was no time to waste, so Jim, Simon and Megan immediately set about planning their impromptu trip while the rest of the team returned, albeit rather reluctantly, to the bullpen. Jack Kelso knew that there was no way he could have been included in any field operation anyway, but promised to stay on hand to help with whatever aspect of the unofficial rescue mission he could; a proposition that was gratefully received by all. 

Although it might have seemed like far too long to the impatient sentinel, in fact it was only a few short hours before the would-be rescue team had pulled together everything they needed and were on the road, travelling together in Jim’s truck since it was the most practical vehicle for the terrain they were likely to encounter. They had a long trip ahead of them, so Jim agreed to spell with Simon so that the only stops they would have to make would be for refuelling and bathroom breaks. Megan didn’t seem to be offended by the fact that Jim hadn’t included her in the driver rota, knowing how protective he was about his beloved ‘Sweetheart’, and merely settled down to get as much rest as she could in the cramped confines of the truck’s cab while Jim took the first shift. 

And as he drove, his face a mask of grim determination, Jim Ellison promised himself that, as soon as he had his guide in his arms again, he was never going to let him go.  


\-------------------------------  


**Blair:**  


Unsurprisingly unaware of any of the frantic activity being carried out on his behalf, Blair lay quiescent and defeated on his bed, still restrained even though he no longer had the will to fight his bonds. For once his face totally lacked the animation that normally graced its mobile features, and the customary bright sparkle was absent from his sad and introspective blue eyes. Although in one sense he was glad to be alone, because he certainly didn’t want or need Brackett’s unwelcome presence any time soon, it had suddenly been brought home to him just how _lonely_ he was. And it was a soul-crushing revelation to be sure; one which he had somehow managed to keep at bay for most of his young life, but which now seemed to define everything he was, and everything he felt at present. 

Thanks to his friendly, outgoing personality, Blair had never lacked for company, even in the most trying of circumstances, but he had been taught from an early age never to get attached to either people or possessions. Travelling the world with his peripatetic, single Mom, he learned very quickly that it didn’t do to make special friends, because they would always be left behind when Naomi’s wanderlust kicked in, and the heartache just wasn’t worth it. And he had no interest in the definition of ‘love’ his mother espoused, and indulged in so readily. Essentially a shallow, self-centred personality, for Naomi, love equalled sex, which to her was little more than a handshake between friends; something to be given freely with no strings attached. Witnessing the parade of heartbroken or furious would-be suitors his mother left in her wake as she ‘detached with love’ again and again, Blair determined that he would neither hurt or be hurt in such a way, which meant that as soon as a relationship reached the point where commitment was required of him, he would back out fast before he was kicked out. He had managed to convince himself that he was content with his lot, but thanks to Brackett’s relentless, persuasive diatribe, he now saw himself for the sad loser he really was. 

He had always prided himself on his observational capability; it was what made him such an effective anthropologist after all. But now he had been forced to view himself from an objective perspective, and he realised how pitiful his constant efforts to ‘fit in’ to whatever social group he found himself must appear to his peers. Too smart for his own good, too bouncy, too untidy and too talkative, it was hardly surprising that so many people found him irritating. Simon Banks wasn’t the only person who could barely tolerate him, of that he was certain, but he had been so sure that with Jim he had found something different. Something special. _Goddess, he had been so wrong!_

He knew only too well that initially Jim had been simply his Holy Grail and study subject, albeit an incredibly attractive one, but that had soon changed. As friendship blossomed between them, as well as a generous amount of hero worship on Blair’s part, he had made the grievous mistake of overstepping his own boundaries, and had fallen in love with the man as much as with the sentinel. And as the promised week in the loft had extended for month after month, Blair had allowed himself to think of the place as ‘home’. The first real one he had ever had, and which owed as much to the man who owned it as to the location. _‘And how stupid was that, Sandburg?’_ he thought miserably. _‘You set yourself up for that disappointment, kiddo. Not Jim’s fault that you couldn’t play by your own rules’._

And he had tried so hard to be accepted into the closed society of Major Crimes and the PD. He had even begun to believe that he had been making real progress, gradually being included in activities such as the popular poker nights and other social occasions, but he understood now that he had been deluding himself. 

For sure, he had always known that Jim wasn’t perfect by any means, but in Blair’s eyes he embodied everything he had ever wanted, warts and all, and worth every effort Blair put in to keep the relationship going. But now, thanks to Brackett, the rose-tinted lenses had been removed from those same eyes, and he realised just how pathetic he was. His desperate desire to be needed and wanted for himself, not just for what services he could provide went far deeper than he had realised, and it was a bitter blow to his ever-fragile psyche to be shown that he had out-lived his usefulness, and that Jim didn’t need him anymore. He should have noticed how the older man seemed to take him for granted more and more, and how he was either treated as comic relief or a necessary nuisance by the rest of Major Crimes. Rarely was he taken seriously, especially by Simon Banks, and it hurt. Oh, how it hurt! 

But even if Jim didn’t need him, it appeared that there were others out there who did, so perhaps he should get over himself and stop fighting for something that was over and done with. Sighing deeply, he made up his mind. He would never stop loving Jim, he knew that. And he would always do everything he could to keep the sentinel safe. Whatever Brackett claimed, Blair would never believe that he was more important than the incredible man who was guardian and protector of the Great City. 

So if he could be assured that neither Brackett nor any of his ‘connections’ had any designs on Jim, and that the sentinel was in no danger, Blair would agree to Brackett’s terms. He would go with whoever came for him, and would do his best to help those young servicemen and women who needed him, even if it went against all his pacifist principles. He wasn’t the naïve innocent anymore, and he had to accept the fact whether he wanted to or not.  


\------------------------------------  


Lee pushed open the door of Blair’s temporary prison, his usual cocky grin plastered across his face as he happily anticipated another verbal sparring session with the feisty and stubborn young grad student. He knew he had hurt Blair deeply at their last session, and it had upset him more than he would have expected given that he was well used to messing with peoples’ heads, and he knew he was good at it. However, he hadn’t expected Blair’s absolute capitulation to be achieved so soon, so was dismayed at the sight that met his eyes. 

The young man’s face was turned resolutely away from him, but even the small section of Blair’s profile he could see bore testimony to his captive’s despair. The beard-stubbled cheek and red-rimmed eye were streaked and crusted with dried tear tracks, although Sandburg made no sound, or even acknowledged Lee’s presence. The glorious hair was lank and greasy, and his underwear sweat-stained and wrinkled after several days of captivity with minimal toileting time. 

A frown now replacing his grin, Lee addressed the quiet figure, injecting false enthusiasm into his tone as he pushed for some response. “Good morning, little guide. Wakey wakey, rise and shine! Time for breakfast and perhaps a shower?” 

“Fuck off, Brackett.” The reply was delivered in a completely flat, uninflected monotone, with no hint of any animation or interest at all. 

Brackett’s frown darkened. It looked like he’d done too good a job this time, and any self-satisfaction he should have felt was completely absent. If the guide was this broken, would he be of any use to the agency after all? Lee knew he had to find out, and quickly, just how compliant Sandburg was likely to be. He surprised himself as it occurred to him that the very last thing he wanted for Blair was for the young man to be quietly terminated as a failure. 

“Come now, little guide. Wouldn’t you like to get properly cleaned up? Surely you don’t want to meet your new employers looking like that?” 

“Don’t care,” came the flat response. “Their opinions don’t matter to me.” 

Perplexed by both Sandburg’s utter indifference and his own reaction to it, Lee tried again. “Well, if not for their benefit, how about for yours? A long, hot shower will make you feel so much better.” 

“If you say so,” replied Blair with a sigh of resignation, finally turning his head to meet Brackett’s quizzical gaze. “Just so’s you know,” he continued tiredly, “I won’t fight you. If you can convince me that Jim is in no danger, I’ll do what you want. But you have to promise me!” and at this last a definite spark of fire and determination was reignited in the glorious blue eyes. 

Lee’s smile returned briefly at Blair’s fervent demand, and his tone was firm and sure when he answered, “I promise you, little guide – Mr Sandburg – that Jim is in no danger of being snatched up by anybody. The only danger he will be in is if he tries to find you, and then only if he steps on too many toes. Does that satisfy you?” 

Blair regarded him carefully for long moments, obviously trying to reassure himself. He could hardly consider Lee Brackett to be trustworthy under most circumstances, but something about the man’s demeanour made him think that in this instance, he was telling the truth inasmuch as he himself believed it. 

Finally, he nodded once and turned his face away again to stare up at the ceiling. “OK. I believe you. Now, how about that shower?” 

And Brackett was amazed at the surge of pure relief that swept over him at Blair’s answer. Not completely broken after all, thank the gods. He’d have to think carefully about how he should proceed now, because the last thing he needed was to damage this precious commodity beyond repair.  


\------------------------------------  


A mere hour or so later, Lee Brackett was in a quandary, facing a completely unexpected crisis of conscience and utterly hating it. Never before could he recall entertaining any sort of empathy for so-called friend or foe, believing himself to be totally self-centred and admittedly amoral. His loyalty could be bought and paid for, and he would honour it only until such time that a better offer came along. That was why he had had every intention of staying under the radar for a limited time; time in which he could put out feelers to other sources in case they could offer him a better deal for the acquisition of the guide. 

However, he knew that that time was running out, and he was already pushing his luck and damaging his credibility in the Agency’s eyes the longer he remained incommunicado. But so far he had put off any further attempts to ‘market’ his captive, and the reason for that was totally un-looked for and completely bewildering. He had only gone and fallen for Blair Sandburg; so much so that he couldn’t even contemplate handing the young man over to his handlers. 

Well, shit! 

Already feeling grudging sympathy for the young guide, it was when Lee accompanied Blair to the shower that the realisation of his infatuation truly hit home. Blair had been passive and compliant, quietly polite as he thanked his captor for the opportunity to shower and shave before donning the clean underwear Lee had provided. But it was while he was actually showering when the moment of epiphany had struck Brackett so forcefully. He had stepped out of the small bathroom in order to allow Blair a little privacy as a reward for his cooperation, although he had left the door open. And was completely undone when he heard the unmistakeable sounds of Blair’s muffled sobs as he broke down, obviously believing that the running water would mask the sounds of his bitter distress. 

When Blair emerged, he was looking composed, if sombre, and incredibly, if unconsciously attractive with freshly-shaven cheeks and his long, damp curls pulled back in a ponytail at his nape. He had calmly held out his hands so that Brackett could replace his manacles, and followed without demur as he was led back to the bedroom to eat his meagre rations. In fact, he was completely obedient and unresisting to all of Brackett’s wishes and commands, and Lee hated it. He couldn’t get out of the room fast enough once Blair had finished his meal, needing to give himself some time alone to re-think his plans. And he had truly surprised himself with the conclusions he had reached, and the decision he had come to which was based on those conclusions. 

Now all he had to do was set those plans in motion.  


\-------------------------------  


**Meanwhile, approaching Boise National Forest:**  


Jim was back at the wheel as he followed the road out of Boise and headed toward the Boise National Forest boundary. Taking three to four hour shifts each, he and Simon had spelled each other throughout the night, and had made remarkably good time. They had kept to their plan to stop only for gas and bathroom breaks, eating ready-made sandwiches on the move and catnapping when they could such that all three of them were as well-prepared as possible for whatever the coming day had to throw at them. Jim had just passed the sign welcoming them to the National Forest when his cell phone rang. Exchanging a speaking glance with Simon, who had been dozing in the front passenger seat, he flipped it open and held it to his ear. 

“Ellison!” he barked, his irritation clear in both tone and frowning expression. And nearly drove off the road in his shock at the response. Brackett’s instantly recognisable, mocking greeting was low, but not too low for sentinel hearing to pick up. 

“Good morning, Sentinel Ellison! And how are you this fine morning? At work, are we?” 

“What the fuck do you want, Brackett,” Jim snarled, his reply causing both Simon and Megan to straighten up in their seats, their attention instantly fixated on their colleague. 

“Oh, just wondering if you were by any chance out looking for your little guide, _Sentinel,”_ the annoying voice continued, the sarcasm uppermost in his tone. “I wanted to know if you were missing him as much as he’s missing you.” 

“What do you think, asshole?” Jim growled, although he realised instantly that that was hardly the right attitude to adopt right now, and cringed as he feared that Brackett might ring off in a huff. 

Luckily the man just seemed to be amused at his outburst, and was chuckling as he answered. 

“Oh, I don’t know, Ellison. You haven’t appeared to be too concerned about young Blair recently. Which, I may add, is one of the reasons I was so happy to take him from you. You don’t deserve him, _Sentinel,_ that’s for sure!” and now his voice hardened appreciably as he continued. 

“Are you driving, by any chance, Ellison? Because if you are, you’d probably like to pull over while we have our little tête-à-tête. Wouldn’t want you to have an accident, because that would upset our little friend so much!” 

“Yeah, yes, I am,” Jim muttered reluctantly, trying very hard to control his temper. “Pulling over now.” 

Once he had stopped, he quickly glanced over at Simon and Megan, his finger to his lips to ensure their silence. As both nodded in understanding, he said, “OK, Brackett, I’ve pulled in. Now, tell me what you want! Please,” he added unwillingly. 

“Better, Ellison. So, where are you exactly? It could be important, so I suggest you just tell me.” 

“Um, just entering the Boise National Forest,” Jim replied, hoping against hope that he was doing the right thing by admitting their location. 

His answer was greeted by an incredulous laugh before Brackett responded with, “I should have guessed, I suppose. Blair does have a good friend in Jack Kelso after all, and I have to admit that that man’s still a disgustingly well-connected fellow. I’m sure it was him who put you on the right track! But anyway,” he continued, serious again, “you’re in luck, because I’m about to do something incredibly stupid. I’m going to tell you where Blair is so you can get to him before my…um…employers do. 

“Understand this, Ellison. This isn’t for your sake, it’s for Blair’s. For some reason, that young man still worships the ground you walk on, despite my telling him a few home truths. I was going to use him to secure a better future for myself, but he got to me instead. I can’t believe I’m telling you this, but it’s true. So listen up, and I’ll give you the coordinates, OK? He’s in a deserted hotel off the beaten track, but I’m sure you’ll have no trouble tracking it down. Ready?” 

When Jim responded in the affirmative, his face struggling to maintain its cool and controlled façade, Brackett quickly supplied the necessary information, followed by a final warning and an admission. 

“I suggest you get a move on, Ellison, and whoever’s with you. I’ve a feeling that you won’t be alone for long; because I suspect that my employers – that is, ex-employers – will already have a team out looking for me. They don’t have your _advantages,_ but they’re fairly competent. I’m on my way out of here right now, so don’t try to find me. You won’t succeed, and neither will they. 

“But I tell you this, Ellison. Blair has come to mean a lot to me; far more than you do; so if you don’t love him like he loves you, or if you hurt him again, I’ll be back for him, and you won’t be able to stop me. And I’ll make sure that our little guide has somewhere to go. Somewhere where he’ll be loved and appreciated. And I don’t mean some government facility. 

“Adios, muchachos!” and the connexion was broken abruptly, leaving Jim staring disconcertedly at the cell phone still clutched in his hand 

His whirling thoughts were brought back on track by Simon’s urgent enquiry. “What is it, Jim? What did that bastard say about Blair?” 

And all Jim could do was look from Simon to Megan and back, an expression of astonishment warring with disbelief colouring his patrician features. 

“He’s given me the directions to where he’s stashed Blair,” he murmured in awe. “He’s giving me my guide back. But we have to hurry,” he continued, urgency now uppermost in his voice. “Brackett says that there’ll be a team out looking for him, so we have to beat them to it. We have to move!” 

And he got no argument from his friends as he threw the truck into drive and pulled back out onto the deserted road with a squeal of rubber on cracked pavement, speeding towards the treeline as Simon unfolded the map to locate the coordinates Brackett had supplied.  


\--------------------------------------  


**Shortly afterwards, outside the Pine Lodge Hotel:**  


Jim drove slowly up the cracked and weed-covered private road that led up to the abandoned hotel where Brackett claimed to have left Blair. The truck’s windows were down, and he was using his senses in order to confirm the truth of that claim, and also to check for unwanted visitors. Although she didn’t yet fully understand the reason for doing so, at Jim’s request Megan was leaning over the seat, gripping his shoulder in an attempt to keep him grounded. It wasn’t anything like as effective as Blair’s touch, but it did allow Jim to reach out further than he would have dared to had he been alone. 

Sure enough, his enhanced hearing soon picked up the beloved heartbeat that he instantly recognised as belonging to his guide, and at the same time, informed him that for the present at least, Blair was alone. 

Keeping his voice down, Simon questioned him urgently, unable to completely disguise the apprehension in his tone. “What do you hear, Jim? Is he here?” His relief was profound when Jim nodded somewhat distractedly. 

“Yeah, Simon, he is. I can hear his heartbeat, and he’s alone. But I think not for long, because I can hear several people approaching. Still at least a mile or so away, I guess, and on foot, but we’d better hurry in case it’s that search party Brackett talked about.” He chose to ignore the speculative stare Megan sent him at his words. Let her think want she wanted. For now all that mattered was getting to Blair as soon as possible. 

“You got it, Jim. Let’s get on with this,” Simon replied, and as Jim pulled up outside the boarded up, shabby building, he was already opening the passenger door to leap out and head for the weather-beaten front entrance, the peeling sign above which proclaimed that this was, or used to be, The Pine Lodge Hotel. . Jim and Megan quickly followed suit, and they reached the door together, finding it unlocked. All three automatically drew their service pistols despite Jim’s assertion that they weren’t presently under threat, their cops’ instincts and well-defined sense of self-preservation kicking in to ensure they wouldn’t be caught off guard. 

Carefully opening the heavy door, Jim checked rapidly for any sign of booby traps, not trusting Brackett to have passed up on the chance of leaving them an unwelcome surprise. However, he found nothing out of the ordinary other than zeroing in on a small bundle left lying on the dusty reception desk. Quickly crossing over to it, he answered Simon and Megan's unspoken questions, murmuring, "It's Blair's clothes. Brackett must have left them here deliberately. And there's a set of keys here too. Let’s go get him!” 

He picked up the keys while Megan grabbed the bundle of clothing, then all three moved swiftly to the side entrance leading to the first floor bedrooms, Simon and Megan on Jim’s heels as he homed in unerringly on a door at the far end of the shabby corridor. Selecting the correct key from the set Brackett had provided, he unlocked it, pushed it open and peered eagerly inside, only to stop dead at the sight that met his shocked eyes. With Megan and Simon looking over his shoulders, all three were momentarily rendered speechless as they took in Blair’s condition. 

The young man was lying on his side on a bare mattress, facing the door, but deeply asleep. And although he looked clean and tidy, he was very pale, and appeared to have lost weight that he couldn’t really afford to lose. But by far the worst aspect was the fact that his wrists and ankles were secured by wide leather cuffs and chains not unlike the sort of bondage gear Jim had seen only too often during his stint in Vice. 

“Well, fuck!” Simon’s quiet but heart-felt profanity indicated just how upset he was as his eyes became suspiciously shiny. To be sure he had never had much patience with the irritating, mouthy young grad student, especially during the early days of their acquaintance, but he had soon learned just how important Blair’s presence had become, not only for Jim himself, but for the other detectives in his team. And he was uncomfortably aware that he had never made much of an effort to offer either credence to Sandburg’s frequently off-the-wall theories, or thanks when they were due, which was more often than not, to tell the truth. And he promised himself that that would change, if only Blair would come back to them whole in mind as well as body. _‘Please God that Brackett hasn’t broken him irreparably,’_ he couldn’t help but think, although he would never have uttered such words in Jim’s presence. The man was close enough to the edge as it was without such negativity from his captain. 

At his side, Megan had to dash away a tear from her eye as she murmured, “Oh, Sandy! What’s that bugger done to you!” The young man was her best mate; the one who had gone out of his way to make her feel welcome, and who had backed her up on so many occasions. All she wanted to do was bundle him up and take him home with her, but she knew that Jim would have something to say about that. She just hoped that the older man had learned his lesson and in future would stop taking Sandy for granted. Better still, perhaps he could get his head out of his ass long enough to recognise just how much Sandy loved him, and maybe, just maybe, love the young man back. 

As for Jim, he quickly shook off his immobility, and crossed to the bed, there to unlock all the chains and cuffs restraining his guide’s lax limbs. The faint chemical smell emanating from Blair’s pores told him that the guide had been drugged, but perhaps that was no bad thing for now. They needed to get away from this place a.s.a.p., so any confessions, recriminations or confrontations could be put on hold until they were all safely back in Cascade. For now it had to be enough that Blair was physically unhurt at least, and in no condition to debate Jim’s unilateral decision. 

With Megan’s help, Jim dressed Blair in his outer clothes as well as he could given the young man’s limp and uncooperative state, then took his guide into his arms, grunting a little with the effort of lifting the dead weight as he rose to his feet. Blair might be slender and not overly muscled, but he was no lightweight for all that, and Jim had cause to be grateful for all the hours he put in at the gym. 

Wasting no time, the small group returned to the truck, settling Blair in the back with Megan while Simon once again appropriated the front passenger seat. After doing another quick check of their surroundings, Jim turned the truck and set off back down the way they had come, explaining that the search party was closing in fast, and that there was no time to lose. He got no argument from his passengers as he pushed the truck up to the speed limit and kept it there until he was sure that they weren’t being tailed, after which they settled in to repeat the pattern of their outward journey, wanting only to get back to Cascade and the security of their own turf as quickly as possible.  


\--------------------------------  


**Part 4: Reassessing Self:**  


**Two days later, the loft:**  


Blair rose gently from the depths of a deep, healing, and this time mercifully dreamless sleep, and opened his eyes to the familiar surroundings of his small room under the stairs. He felt warm and comfortable, but knew that a trip to the bathroom would soon be necessary, and the thought made him frown. He tried to keep his breathing calm and steady, even though it was probably a waste of effort given that sentinel senses were undoubtedly trained on him even now, but he really needed to give himself a few minutes before his roommate descended on him once again. Because Jim was in uber-protective ‘mother hen’ mode, and had been ever since Blair’s rescue – not that the younger man remembered all that much about the actual event, however. Thankfully he recalled nothing about his rescuers’ arrival, and had slept nearly all the way back to Cascade. He had vague memories of surfacing once or twice to the sensation of travelling, but since he felt relaxed and unthreatened this time, he had made no effort to stay awake. 

As the drug had worked its way out of his system over the two days since his rescue, he had woken for increasingly longer and more lucid periods, during which he had learned something about the circumstances surrounding the event, but there was still a whole lot more he needed to know. Not that he expected that knowledge to be particularly reassuring, but he realised that he had decisions to make, and those decisions had to be informed ones for both his sake and Jim’s. 

He had been told that Jim, Megan and Simon had come for him, and also that virtually the whole of Major Crimes had had a hand in searching for him, although he found that snippet very hard to believe, given his perception of his lowly status within the PD. He hadn’t been quite as surprised to learn of Jack Kelso’s huge contribution, however, knowing his colleague’s integrity and kindness to Blair over the years, and he was extraordinarily grateful for that. 

However, what he found even more difficult to comprehend was Jim’s confession that it was Brackett himself who truly facilitated Blair’s rescue. Although Kelso had ascertained the general area where Blair was being held, and had also made correct assumptions about the rationale behind his kidnap, apparently it was Brackett who had given Jim the exact coordinates for the abandoned hotel and a heads up about the search party which had enabled Jim and his companions to get to Blair in time. But that simply didn’t ring true for Blair, given the treatment to which he had been subjected, and the information he had had forced upon him. To say he was conflicted would be an understatement, and at that moment he felt too unsteady both physically and mentally to ponder the subject too deeply. For now he just had to put up with Jim’s incessant hovering, knowing he should be grateful, but actually having a really hard time controlling his growing urge to snap irritably at his roommate. No one, not even Naomi, had ever before troubled to take so much care of him, and as a fiercely independent individual, he was finding it very hard to deal with. 

Just then, Jim poked his head around the door, a concerned expression on his face, and Blair had to contain the urge to sigh deeply in frustration as the older man asked quietly, “You OK, Chief? I thought you’d probably want to go to the bathroom, so I thought I’d give you a hand?” 

“Um, yeah. I do need to go, I guess. Thanks, Jim,” and he allowed Jim to steady him as he struggled to his feet, his sense of balance still a little off, and his legs shaky. As Jim gently escorted him to the bathroom, he realised he needed a bit longer to truly get his strength back and also to process all the thoughts and emotions vying for attention in his troubled mind. 

But as soon as he was ready, they had to talk. And for once he really wasn’t looking forward to that little treat.  


\---------------------------------  


**Jim:**  


It would be fair to say that Blair wasn’t the only one who was conflicted, but in Jim’s case a greater part of his problem was dealing with the healthy dose of guilt that had settled in his gut like a stone. He had failed to protect his guide adequately, and he had taken the young man for granted for too long, and although he had him back for the time being, who knew how long that would last? Hell, he admitted to himself that he wouldn’t blame Blair if the young man told him it was over, and that he was moving out. He had enough data for his diss anyway, so why would he stay any longer just to be Jim’s whipping boy? Sure, Simon insisted that Blair loved him, but surely this latest episode must have killed off that love. If Simon was to be believed, the kid had been carrying a torch for Jim for months, even years now, but unrequited love had to die some time, and Jim was scared to death that he’d left it too late. As Blair grew more and more alert, Jim could see the wariness and uncertainty that clouded his guide’s beautiful blue eyes, and he guessed correctly that not all of those troubling emotions were purely down to Lee Brackett’s influence. 

They were going to have to talk, and although he had promised himself that for once he would be honest and open about his feelings, the thought of baring his soul was truly terrifying. But it had to be done, and the sooner the better. But maybe not just yet….  


\---------------------------------  


**Several days later:**  


Jim entered the bullpen and headed towards his desk, responding to the various greetings he received, and the inevitable questions regarding his guide’s welfare. And as ever, he made the usual excuses, explaining that Blair wasn’t well enough yet to return to the PD, but that he sent his sincere thanks for all the good wishes he had received. It was partly true, after all, and Blair really did appreciate the cards and messages, but he still didn’t seem to be able to comprehend just how deeply he was missed. As always, he persisted in his belief that despite Brackett’s claims, within the PD at least he was perceived as nothing more than an organic extension of Jim rather than an important individual in his own right, but Jim thought wryly that if he could actually witness the number of people who asked after him, he ought to be convinced of their real regard for him. But he had to be here to do that, and the young man was still avoiding the issue, too insecure as yet to face the potential embarrassment his presence might conjure up. 

Just as he reached his desk, Simon stuck his head around his office door and called out, his customary bellow subdued for once as he addressed Jim. 

“Ah, Jim, you’re here. Come into the office, man. I need a word.” 

Jim turned towards him to obey the summons, one eyebrow cocked inquisitively as he approached the office. Only a particularly delicate subject could elicit such a sympathetic tone from his gruff superior, which probably meant that it had to do with Blair. Or rather, with Jim and Blair and how they were progressing. And to be truthful, Jim didn’t want to discuss it, even with his friend and captain. 

Yes, they had indeed had ‘The Talk’, but unfortunately it hadn’t turned out to be the healing catalyst both men had hoped for. Too much had happened too quickly, and they were still tiptoeing around each other, painfully polite, with each afraid to be the instrument of their final break up. It couldn’t go on. He knew it, and so did Blair, but there seemed to be a gigantic gulf between them now which neither man dared to try and cross for fear of falling into an abyss of despair and eternal self-reproach. The one facet that gave Jim any hope at all of salvaging their partnership was the fact that he knew for sure now how Blair felt about him, and he prayed that he had managed to convince his guide that his love was returned in full measure. But whether that would eventually turn out to be enough was yet to be seen. He couldn’t shake off the unsettling thought that he had left it far too late. 

Closing the door gently behind him, Jim took the seat indicated and sat down opposite Simon, already on edge and wondering how he was going to get through this ‘interview’ without either breaking down or erupting in a fury of frustration. It occurred to him that his boss looked almost as uncomfortable as he himself probably did, but Simon was nothing if not a responsible commander and good friend, and for those reasons he wouldn’t put off the inevitable when the wellbeing of his department or any members thereof were concerned. 

For his part, Simon offered Jim a cup of his latest gourmet coffee from his personal machine, which Jim accepted with a small smile of pleasure. He realised that Simon was trying to give himself a little more time to get his own thoughts in order as he busied himself with the task of pouring two mugs, but once both men were settled and sipping appreciatively at the fragrant brew, Simon finally set down his mug and met Jim’s suddenly unhappy and wary gaze. 

“So, Jim. You know what I’m going to ask, but I hope you realise that I have no intention of sitting by and watching you and Blair self-destruct if I can do anything to help you. Both of you. I’m guessing that things can’t be going as well as I’d hoped since the kid still hasn’t put in an appearance here. Physically he must be pretty much back to normal, I’m thinking, so there must be other reasons why he’s not here shadowing your every move. Is it just the traumatic repercussions of yet another kidnapping, or is it to do with your relationship? Or a combination of the two? You know me well enough by now, I hope, to understand that I’m not asking this for morbid self-gratification. I’m worried about you, Jim, and about the kid too.” 

Jim scrubbed at his face with both hands. God, he didn’t want to do this. He would rather walk on broken glass than go through this emotional blood-letting again, but deep down he knew that it was probably the best thing he could do. He had talked and talked to Blair, and Blair had responded in kind, but still they hadn’t resolved the issues that came between them, so maybe, just maybe, telling all to an interested third party might give him some answers. Or at least some new ideas as to how to proceed. 

Looking up into Simon’s warm brown eyes, Jim took a deep, calming breath and began. 

“You’re right, Simon. Blair is much better, but the truth is, he’s scared. Really scared. And confused, and I can’t blame him for that. I’ve always assumed that he’d bounce back from everything that’s been thrown at him since he’s been working with me, because it’s just the way he is. Despite everything – beatings, kidnappings, even gunshot wounds – he hangs in there for me, even when he’s barely holding it together. Hell, he’s the bravest man I’ve ever known, although he’d laugh in my face if I ever told him that! 

“But this time it’s his self-perception that’s been royally screwed up. Brackett’s mind-games have shattered many of his illusions, and even though I believe that in some respects that might turn out to be a good thing, he just can’t get his head around it yet. 

“See, you and I both know that intellectually he can hold his own in any company, but deep down, he has very low self-esteem, and I haven’t helped disabuse him of that misconception. If anything, I’ve made it worse by belittling him and ignoring him on a regular basis, but it was only because _I_ was too chickenshit to admit how much I needed him. You tried to tell me before, but I didn’t _want_ to love him, because I expected him to leave me, so I made a point of holding him at arm’s length, and now he might go anyway because he can’t figure out where he stands. And he _really_ can’t get his head around the notion that he’s as important as I am in our partnership, if not even more so. It’s not something I like to admit, but in all fairness, bruised ego notwithstanding, I can see Brackett’s point. A sentinel is only as good as his guide, and I’m beginning to believe that there might even be something genetic about it. That we’re somehow compatible, and that’s what makes our partnership work so well. Sure, Blair has probably more theoretical knowledge about the whole phenomenon than anyone else, but some of the things he comes up with to help me are instinctual. And no one else’s touch grounds me like his does. My senses just seem to automatically settle in his presence. 

“And no, I’ve never confessed any of this before to him, and now I feel as if I’ve left it too late. The damage has already been done, and why should he stay with me after all the times I’ve let him down? I don’t deserve his love or his loyalty, but God help me, I still want it.” 

Pushing back in his seat, Simon took a moment to formulate his response, more shaken than he cared to admit by Jim’s heart-felt confession. Sure, he knew that something must have gone wrong between sentinel and guide, but he had hoped that it wasn’t so fundamental that Jim and Blair couldn’t overcome it. 

“Well, shit, Jim! I’m sorry, man, but I didn’t think things were so bad between you both. Like you, I’ve always taken Blair’s resilience and loyalty for granted, and I freely admit I’ve failed to support him to the extent that he deserves. But if his self-confidence is as poor as you say it is, why hasn’t he already run for the hills? He’s never struck me as being some kind of masochist!” 

“Because he loves me, Simon. You said it yourself. He truly loves me, which is why he’s fought off his instinctive desire to run away. He was taught at an early age to beat a hasty retreat before a situation – any situation – got out of hand. It’s apparently something that Naomi would do automatically. But because he loves me, and feels a strong sense of duty towards me, he’s hung in there with me through thick and thin, believing that it’s his lot in life to be my backup. And I realise now that he’s desperate for someone to want and need him for himself, and how many times have I brushed him aside as if he was of no importance? 

“But now, thanks to Brackett, he has been shown that there’s much more to it than that, and I have to prove to him that I understand, and can accept that his role is as important as mine. But where we go from here I don’t yet know. He still needs to finish that diss, and his adult life thus far has revolved around Rainier and academia. He’s already stretching himself too thinly trying to hold down his teaching job and working with me whenever he can. How can I ask him to give up his academic dreams just to work with me full-time? Because I’m pretty certain that that’s the only way we’ll ever reach our full potential as a team. And I just don’t have the right to demand that of him.” 

“I have no quick answer for you, Jim. But I admit that I’m glad to hear how much you’re prepared to put into saving your relationship. I can say hand on heart that when the two of you are working as a team, the department benefits enormously, and I should make more of an effort to make that clear to Blair. 

“But give the kid his due, Jim. If he’s hung in this long, I truly believe he’ll stay with you. He’ll resolve the situation to his satisfaction as best he can, and you know that I and the rest of your colleagues are only too willing to help persuade him to make the right decision.” 

He would have added more, but when his desk phone rang and Rhonda told him who was calling, the atmosphere in the office instantly became charged with tension. 

Blair was on the line, and suddenly the whole situation reached tipping point.  


\----------------------------------  


**Blair’s office, Rainier University:**  


Blair sat at his desk, trying to concentrate on the preparation of an overdue lesson plan with little success. He had hoped that getting back into the swing of things at Rainier would help settle the turmoil in his brain, but with no luck so far. Giving up on his efforts as a lost cause for the moment, he sat back in his seat and ran his hands through his thick curls in exasperation, frowning as he lost himself in his troubled thoughts yet again. 

To be honest, he hadn’t told Jim he was going back to work today. But he had insisted that Jim needed to return to the PD, not least because he couldn’t bear the unrelenting uneasiness between them. He couldn’t bear to witness the stress and strain of Jim’s self-imposed guilt, and his continuous bending over backwards to coddle and reassure Blair of his good intentions. One of them was going to blow, and Blair so didn’t want it to come to that. But he really, really didn’t know how to break the emotional deadlock without one of them getting hurt again. 

With a despondent sigh, he thought back to the day of the dreaded ‘Talk’. It was ironic that he had always been the one trying to get Jim to open up to him. Attempting to plumb the depths of the Ellison psyche was like trying to get blood out of a stone. But on this occasion it had been Jim who had instigated their discussion, and what an eye-opener it had turned out to be. Jim had apologised profusely for the many occasions when he had ignored or belittled his guide, explaining his fear of being left alone to fend for himself once the diss was done and Blair moved on to higher things. It obviously didn’t occur to him that Blair would view these assumptions as hurtful and evidence that Jim didn’t recognise where Blair was coming from at all. What else did Blair need to do to convince Jim of his unstinting love and loyalty? Did he have to die for him before Jim could see that he was the single most important person in Blair’s universe? The one person to whom he truly believed he could commit? 

Jim had gone on then to encourage Blair to talk about what Brackett had said to him, so Blair had taken his courage in both hands and told him everything. Truthfully, he had expected anger and denial on Jim’s part, and was surprised when Jim confessed that he already had an idea of what the rogue agent was up to, thanks to Kelso’s astute and accurate deductions. But they had made no further progress as to deciding what it all meant to them both even after Jim confessed his love for Blair. Far from falling into each other’s arms and declaring their undying love for each other, they had both paused awkwardly, unsure of what should happen next. Blair supposed that, in hindsight it must have looked pretty silly, with both of them apparently hard put not to shuffle their feet like anxious little kids. He knew himself to be impulsive, and on previous occasions, Jim - ever the more tactile of the two - would treat Blair to a face pat or one-armed hug, but now they moved around each other like strangers, carefully respecting each other’s personal space. It was horrible, but Blair no longer had the courage to make the first move. 

Dragging his thoughts away from that melancholy topic, he concentrated instead on how he felt about Brackett’s revelations. Now he’d had a few days to come to terms with the startling concepts thrown at him, he suddenly realised that he was very close to accepting them as the truth. It was a whole new area to explore as far as the diss was concerned, and he was surprised to feel a warm glow at the thought of being of significant importance to Jim after all, and he would be lying to himself if he didn’t confess to a certain satisfaction at being singled out as a ‘prized commodity’ in Brackett’s terms. But if that meant leaving Cascade and Jim, he really didn’t want to know, especially if it entailed being abducted again against his will. 

Unless, of course, Brackett had been telling the truth when he said that Jim didn’t need or deserve Blair anymore and would actually be better off just as a good cop. 

And just like that, Blair’s insecurity returned in full force, and he could have screamed in frustrated despair. 

However, after several minutes of concentrated effort, and the steady repetition of his favourite mantras, he found his centre again, and took himself firmly in hand. _You have a chance here to make things right, Blair old son, if you have the guts. You have to talk to Jim again tonight. Make him hear you when you tell him that he is the most important person in your life, bar none. You wanted him to open up, and now he has, what right have you to get all bent out of shape now you’ve heard a few things you don’t like? Bite the bullet, be a man, and make him see you._

Decision made, he began to pack away his papers and books, intending to confront Jim as soon as possible even if it meant going to the PD. He would consider his academic future once he knew exactly where he stood with Jim, and if the Department Head and Chancellor Edwards didn’t like it, then tough. For once in his life, he needed to get his priorities right, and deep down, he knew that Jim was now, and always would be, his number one. 

A sharp knock on the door distracted him, and he frowned in mild puzzlement at who should be visiting at this hour. He hadn’t made any appointments, and hadn’t scheduled any office hours yet, but he called out “Enter!” anyway. 

And nearly fell on his ass in shock when the door opened to reveal two very smart, imposing and business-like military types. 

Seeing the young professor’s white-faced, horror-struck reaction to his unexpected visitors, the older of the two took charge immediately. While Blair tried not to hyperventilate, desperately fighting off the urge to succumb to a full-blown panic attack, the man pulled up Blair’s desk chair and eased him down into it, nothing but concern in his expression. 

“Easy, Mr Sandburg, easy!” he murmured, a familiarity with command clear in his voice despite the soothing words. “Take some deep breaths, son. We’re not here to hurt you.” 

Blair gazed stupidly up at him, mouth agape like a stranded fish for several moments before he managed to finally get himself under some sort of control. Once he felt he could get enough breath to speak, anger and irritation broke through his embarrassment as he gasped, “What the hell are you doing here? How did you know where to find me? I didn’t even decide to come in until the last minute. Are you following me?” 

The man regarded him appraisingly for a long moment, his expression stern but not threatening. Finally, he apparently came to a decision, and nodding briskly, he replied, “I apologise for upsetting you, Mr Sandburg. I can assure you it was not our intention, although I can understand your wariness considering your recent experiences. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Colonel Matheson, and this is my second in command, Captain Stiles. I head up a specialist unit which was specifically set up to study the viability of using individuals with enhanced senses in the military. 

“But I want to make it clear here and now that there is nothing ‘covert’ about us. As a self-proclaimed pacifist, you might not appreciate our reasons for training servicemen and women for active duty, but you could play a significant role in helping them to be the best that they can be. Improve their chances of survival and help them to use their gifts to the full for the benefit of their country. Shall I go on?” he added, unashamedly targeting Blair’s empathy and already knowing that he had piqued the young man’s curiosity despite his obvious suspicion. 

Blair tilted his head to one side as he looked from one to the other, surprised to find that, now he was over his initial reaction, he didn’t actually feel threatened. But they were going to have to do a lot of convincing if he was to take them seriously. 

“OK, Colonel. I’ll listen to what you have to say, but you’ll excuse me if I have a lot of questions? As you say, I haven’t had the best experience with someone claiming to need my so-called ‘expertise’, and I won’t promise anything either way until I’m satisfied. Take a seat, and you can begin by telling me how you became aware of me in the first place.” 

With a nod and a small smile, the colonel carefully lifted a precariously tilting pile of blue books from the chair nearest to him, and placed them neatly on the overflowing desk, as his companion repeated the action with the room’s only other chair. Once they were seated, Matheson leaned forward slightly, his gaze steady and compelling as he continued. 

“It might surprise you to know, Mr Sandburg, that the army has been aware of the existence of hypersensitive individuals for many years now, but has only had limited success in deploying them. They have had some remarkable results, but they also come with built-in drawbacks, as you well know, and the likelihood of sensory spikes or what you refer to as zone-outs made them more of a liability than an asset. It has to be said that it was Lee Brackett who initially drew our attention to the existing body of work concerning tribal Sentinels, which consisted mostly of Burton’s original monograph, and your own considerable contribution, particularly your Master’s thesis. And having now identified the phenomenon, my unit has studied your work with interest. Your insights and observations have been of great help to us, but it was the information relating to the sentinel’s companion which was of most interest. 

“And again, I have to say that it was Brackett who alerted us to the true significance of the role of what he referred to as the ‘guide’. He has observed you and Detective Ellison for some while now, and while he acknowledged you as the leading expert on the subject as a whole, he also realised that you had no idea of your own importance.” 

Frowning slightly at Blair’s dismissive snort of disdain, he continued severely, “It’s true, Mr Sandburg. You plainly have never considered yourself to be anything other than backup and observer, and although your lack of egoism does you credit, a little more self-confidence is no bad thing. 

“Anyhow,” he said, “to answer your question as to whether we were following you, then yes, we were. We were aware of other – shall we say – less scrupulous agencies’ interest in you, and we were preparing to approach you with our own offer when Brackett beat us to it. Suffice it to say that, had Detective Ellison not been able to rescue you, we would have done our best to have gotten you released into our custody. 

“Because I assure you that at least as far as we are concerned, there is no question of holding you against your will. Coercion is not the norm in our unit. 

“Now, I can see that you have a lot of questions, and I realise that this is a lot to take in, so may I suggest that we continue this discussion in your apartment? I suspect that you will want Detective Ellison to hear what our proposition entails, as it will undoubtedly affect several aspects of your life together.” 

And a somewhat shell-shocked Blair was simply grateful for the chance to process what he had heard so far, so he nodded his assent as he reached for the phone, intending to call Jim at the PD at once.  


\------------------------------------  


**The loft, some hours later:**  


Jim and Blair sat pressed closely together on the sofa, their previous unease completely forgotten as Blair unconsciously sought the physical comfort and support of his sentinel. He had been given much to consider over the past few hours, and the sheer weight of information and its potential impact on his life had nearly overwhelmed him. As for Jim, he was in uber-vigilant mode, his concern for Blair’s well-being overriding any worries he might have had on his own behalf. Although he was certain that the two officers presented no physical threat to his guide, their presence alone was enough to set his innate protective instinct on high alert, and the steely-eyed glare and almost sub-vocal growling from deep in his chest left all present in no doubt that here was a sentinel in near-primal mode. 

Behind the sofa, Simon loomed protectively over his men, arms folded across his chest and scowling ferociously as he chomped on the unlit cigar clamped between his jaws. 

Only the two military men seated opposite Jim and Blair looked cool, calm and collected with nary a wrinkle in their pristine uniforms, although sentinel hearing picked up on the slightly elevated heartbeats which suggested they weren’t quite as relaxed as they appeared. Nevertheless, the expression on Colonel Matheson’s regular features and in his level gaze was one of sympathy and understanding as he made to rise to his feet, preparing to leave sentinel, guide and captain alone to discuss the options with which they had been presented. 

“I know there is a lot for you to consider, Mr Sandburg, and you also, Detective Ellison, and I don’t expect an instant answer. I do, however, hope that we can come to some understanding, even if it is a compromise of sorts for the time being. I cannot stress enough how much your input is needed, Mr Sandburg, and while I have no intention of intimidating you in any way, please bear in mind that there are still those out there who are far less scrupulous than us, and should you decide to turn my offer down flat, please be aware that you might be placing yourself at risk of being abducted again. 

“I truly hope that that eventuality doesn’t come to pass, but you must never underestimate your worth, Mr Sandburg. Your knowledge, insight and talent are rare gifts, young man. They should not be taken lightly, and could be of inestimable assistance to the young people under my command. Please also bear that in mind when you make your decision. 

“And now, we’ll take our leave. Although as I said, I don’t expect an instant decision, time is of the essence up to a point, so I should appreciate an answer within the next 36 hours. If you are interested, but need more specific information, then let me know and I shall do my best to accommodate you, but if I hear nothing from you by 0800 hours on Wednesday, I shall assume that the answer is no, and we shall return to base. Either way, thank you for listening to what we have to say, and I trust you will think carefully about my proposition. 

“Good day, Mr Sandburg, Detective Ellison, Captain Banks,” and he took his leave, closely followed by Captain Stiles. 

As the door closed behind them, the tension drained abruptly from Blair’s body and he deflated like a burst balloon. Wrapping a powerful arm around the smaller man’s now shaking shoulders; Jim encouraged him to lean in for a hug; something that Blair was only too willing to do. In the aftermath of everything he’d just learned, there was nothing he wanted more than to bury himself in Jim’s arms and never come out again. 

While the pair reconnected, Simon moved around from behind the sofa and headed for the kitchen. 

“I don’t know about you guys, but I need a beer! You joining me?” 

Looking up and over Blair’s bent head, Jim met Simon’s gaze and nodded slightly. “Yeah, Simon, I think that’s a great idea. Can you get one for both of us please?” 

He had to chuckle softly when a small voice came from the vicinity of his chest, muttering grumpily, “Better make that two each, man. I think this is going to be a two-beer night at least!”  


\------------------------------  


**24 hours later:**  


“So, run that by me again, Hairboy. What exactly does a ‘guide’ do for a ‘sentinel’?” H’s pleasant features were creased in genuine puzzlement as he tried to get to grips with everything he’d been told in the last hour or so. 

“Bloody hell, mate,” Megan’s exasperated voice broke in. “Were you even listening? It’s what Sandy’s been doing for Jim all along. You always wondered about Jim’s ‘edge’. Well, now you know the proper name for it, and why his results are so good. As long as Sandy’s with him, that is,” and she slanted a cheeky grin over at Jim, who was busying himself getting more beers from the refrigerator. 

It had been a busy and stressful night and day, during which much soul-searching and necessary research had taken place. Decisions had been made, albeit with a few judicious reservations, but at the end of that time, Simon had suggested an impromptu poker evening at the loft, during which Jim and Blair could explain their proposed new path to their closest colleagues at the PD. Once Rafe, H, Megan and Joel arrived, clearly overjoyed to finally reconnect with Blair again, they had still been dismayed to learn that there was an ulterior motive behind the invitation, and they had yet to decide on whether Blair’s bombshell was a good or a bad thing for all concerned. 

Returning Megan’s grin with a wry smirk of his own, Jim carried on with what he was doing, collecting the ice-cold brews and giving himself a few precious moments to reflect on what he and Blair had revealed thus far.  


\-----------------------------------  


As soon as their friends were settled, Blair had diffidently begun to explain why he and Jim – and Simon – had invited them. The group listened with rapt attention as Blair treated them to a thorough, but succinct description of what being a sentinel involved, and he couldn’t keep the pride from his voice and expression as he noted the awed glances his friends were shooting Jim’s way. 

Gazing speculatively from one to the other, Joel murmured thoughtfully, “Well, Blair, it’s good to know that you’re finally both willing to share your secret with us, and even better to know that it isn’t just some new and improved investigative technique!” 

“Or that Jim’s a psychic!” Megan added with a self-deprecating smile and shrug. “So you really could hear Sandy’s heartbeat in the hotel and track that search party from miles away in the forest! Bloody awesome, mate, no jesting. 

“But seriously, Jimbo,” she continued with a perplexed frown, “why couldn’t you have told everyone about your ability before this? Why did the pair of you keep it to yourselves? I mean, if it was me, I’d be boasting about it from the rooftops!” 

When Blair made to speak in Jim’s defence, Jim offered him a grateful smile, but chose to reply for himself. 

“I had my reasons, Megs, and one of them was that before Blair came along and set me straight, I thought I was going mad. I can’t begin to describe how frightening it is when all your senses suddenly kick in like that, for no apparent reason. But when Blair explained what I was; not Superman, or a freak of nature, but the possessor of a natural genetic advantage; I was both relieved and scared. I was too stubborn to see the senses as the gift he said they were, and both of us were convinced that, if word of my ‘talent’ got out, I would be snatched up by some government organisation either for experimentation, or be forced to return to my - shall we say – less salubrious covert ops past. So that’s why we only told Simon, and Blair came up with the idea of applying for a ride-along pass to gather data for his dissertation. Which was originally only supposed to last for 90 days!” he added with a fond grin at his blushing partner. 

“Well, I get that you needed someone with you who understood about your gift, Jim,” Rafe mused. “But was the dissertation stuff just a cover, then?” 

“No, Brian,” Jim replied frankly. “I did tell Blair that he could study me for his dissertation on modern sentinels, but neither of us wanted word to get out about me, so Blair came up with the ‘Closed Societies’ alternative topic instead in case anyone got too inquisitive. But I admit here and now that I really hated being a study subject.” However, when his friends frowned in sympathy at Blair’s suddenly hurt and downcast expression, he continued hastily, “I’m not so worried now, though, for several reasons. May I explain?” 

When he received eager nods and encouragement from his listeners, he pulled Blair into his side and gave him an affectionate squeeze before speaking. “For a start, I realised that I needed Blair with me, but I resented having to rely on anyone so much. I’d never needed that sort of backup before, and I thought that once his diss was done, Blair would be on his way. I should have realised that he was in for the long haul, but I didn’t give him credit for his commitment. 

“Anyhow, after Lee Brackett snatched him – and some verbal ass-kicking from Jack Kelso - I realised just how important he was to me, and just how valuable a sentinel’s companion is. It was Brackett who coined the term ‘guide’ when we first crossed swords – and yes, he did try to force me to use my senses for his own ends a while back – but he also made it clear that he was interested in Blair’s role. You see, although Blair wouldn’t admit it – or accept it – at first, Brackett knew that, not only was he the acknowledged expert in the field of sentinel studies, but he was also a talented guide in his own right. And that was why Brackett wanted him, not me. We now know that I’m not unique, and that the army, and other government agencies, have been employing sentinels for years, just not very successfully. They hadn’t spent enough time and effort on studying the role of the companion, or guide, until Brackett alerted them to Blair’s presence, and all of a sudden acquiring him became a priority. As for me, I’m too old and set in my ways to have my commission reactivated, so all this time Blair and I have been worrying for completely the wrong reasons.” 

“That’s all well and good, Jim,” Joel said, a troubled look on his normally genial face. “But what happens now for Blair? I mean, I’m glad that you’re not in any danger now, but how do we protect Blair? Is he going to be looking over his shoulder for the foreseeable future, worried about some clandestine type snatching him again?” 

“Ah, well, Joel, that’s a good question, but I think we might just have the answer to that. But first, I need a beer. Anyone else want one while I’m at it?” 

He had received affirmatives from everyone present, and as Simon looked on approvingly, gratified with his peoples’ generally positive reactions thus far, Jim set about collecting the requisite drinks while he marshalled his thoughts for the next set of revelations.   


\------------------------------------  


Having handed out the beers, Jim, with Blair and Simon’s input, proceeded to fill them in on what they had decided following Colonel Matheson’s visit. 

“OK, folks, it’s like this. You’re not quite the only ones we’ve ‘come out’ to about the sentinel stuff today. In order to secure their support, with Simon’s help we arranged to meet with the Chief and the Commissioner this morning. Blair explained everything, and I even did a few party tricks to convince them that we weren’t bluffing. Neither of them was particularly happy to have been kept in the dark for so long, but when Blair explained how criminals might use my senses against me if my secret got out, they were more understanding. 

“And by the way, guys, we’d be grateful if you also kept this to yourselves as much as possible. It doesn’t have to be a state secret any longer, but if we could keep it in-house for the time being at least, that’d be good for all concerned. 

“Anyhow, suffice it to say that they weren’t quite ready to pull the rug out from under the feet of their most successful team – Simon’s words, not mine!” he added with a smirk, nodding his appreciation at the older man. “And they were prepared to listen to what we had to suggest as regards Colonel Matheson’s proposal. And basically, this is it.” 

“Colonel Matheson wants Blair to be available to assist with the training of recruits at their unit’s nearest base, which isn’t that far away. Apparently they have a Sentinel Unit in the Cascades, so that travelling shouldn’t be too much of a problem. Officially, he would be contracted as a civilian advisor, and as such should be safe from other agencies that might have designs on him. We don’t know yet what sort of timetable he’ll be looking at – it’s still early days in the negotiations – but we assume he’ll be expected to split his time between working with me at the PD, and at the base. We just don’t know the percentages yet.” 

Blair realised that everyone was looking at him with various degrees of concern and consternation, so wasn’t really surprised when Joel addressed him directly, plainly speaking for all of them. 

“This all sounds just fine, Blair, but how do you really feel about it, son? It seems to me that you’ve been given little choice but to make the most of the situation, and we all know how dedicated you are to helping Jim. Will you be able to continue with your studies at Rainier, and if not, how do you feel about that?” 

Blair stared at his feet for a moment, knowing that they deserved an honest reply. But it wasn’t going to be easy to explain, when he hadn’t really had time yet to come to grips properly with the situation himself. And he really didn’t want to upset Jim any more than he could help, so he chose his words with as much care as he could. Looking up to meet his friends’ quizzical gazes, he swallowed hard and began. 

“Um, well, I guess you already know that I like working with Jim. I mean, for me it’s like one long rollercoaster ride compared to the academic merry-go-round, which is why I’ve been tagging along for so long. And I realise now that a lot of that compulsion to stay with him is part of my role as a guide to a sentinel. But it’s more than that, as I hope Jim knows now,” and he peeked a little nervously up into the handsome face looking down at him, relieved to see a gentle smile of approval there. 

“Anyway, although I can’t say that I’m overjoyed at the prospect of working with the military, I also don’t like to think that there are servicemen and women out there who aren’t reaching their potential because they don’t have the right training. I just hope I’ll be up to the task,” and he couldn’t prevent a touch of his habitual insecurity from creeping into his tone. 

Jim’s strong arm wrapped supportively around his shoulders as the older man almost growled, “And that’s enough of that, kiddo! They want the best, and they’re getting it, OK?” 

Smiling more naturally now, Blair nodded gratefully and then continued. 

“OK then. To continue. Like Jim says, there’s a lot of negotiating to be done before I know exactly what’s expected of me, but in order to keep working with Jim for the rest of the time, I need an official role within the PD, and for that the Chief and the Commissioner both insist that I should get my doctorate. I think they’d prefer it if I went to the Academy, but that’s not for me. But if I get my PhD, then they both said they would be prepared to offer me a position as an official consultant to the Police Department on a case-by-case basis, which means I can ride with Jim much as before. It’s not a lot of money, but apparently the military is prepared to pay me a decent salary, so I won’t miss my teaching stipend. 

“And frankly, I won’t miss teaching as much as I thought I might. I was already getting sick of the back-biting and politics involved in so many aspects of Rainier’s administration and amongst its academic hierarchy. Chancellor Edwards has never liked me, and now she positively hates me!” 

“How so, Hairboy?” H couldn’t help but ask. “What’s not to like?” 

And Blair couldn’t help but grin appreciatively at the younger detective’s friendly question, even as Jim chuckled beside him, reaching up to ruffle Blair’s curls affectionately. “Go on, Chief. Tell them the rest!” 

“Um, well, this is the good part,” Blair snickered. “After we left the Chief and Commissioner this morning, I called Colonel Matheson and he was happy to meet us at Rainier when we went to see Chancellor Edwards and the Dean of Studies to explain what was going on. Basically, he told Edwards that I was needed for important work concerning national security, and that he expected them to expedite the defence of my paper as soon as it was submitted. Um, you see, it’s been finished for a while now,” he added sheepishly, with a fetching blush. “I just didn’t want to get off the rollercoaster, you see!” 

There were grins all round at his words, even though Simon pretended to scowl fiercely at him. 

“Anyway, she was even less amused when he told her that the ‘Sentinel’ diss would be sealed as soon as it was passed, for official government use only, and that would go for the rest of my extant work on the subject. She was furious that the U wouldn’t be able to get any kudos or benefit from their new Doctor’s output. 

“That’s assuming it does get passed,” he added, his confidence slipping noticeably again. 

“No question of that, Chief,” Jim reassured him with a smile. “Knowing you, it’ll be brilliant! My only concern is that everything will be so low-key. You deserve to have your achievement broadcast far and wide, kiddo.” 

And Blair’s face was a picture of love and happiness as he replied sincerely, “It’s fine, Jim. Truly. I never was one for hype and all that pomp and circumstance surrounding degree awards. My reward will be in receiving my doctorate, and knowing that we can still work together. It’s all I ever wanted.” 

For a short while, everyone else was forgotten as they gazed into each other’s eyes, until a gentle cough broke into their shared moment, and they turned as one to see Megan’s grinning face next to them. 

“And on that note, boys, I think we should leave you. But seriously, I hope everything works out for you both, in all respects, because I never want to see you in the wrong hands again, Sandy, love. See you in the morning?” 

“You got it, Megs,” Jim replied. “And thank you all for coming tonight, and for being so supportive. It’s good to know we both have such good friends.”  


\----------------------------------  


Shortly afterwards, alone again, Blair looked up into Jim’s warm eyes. “They took everything really well, didn’t they, Jim? I mean, I had no idea they really liked me that much. They were so kind!” 

“It’s what I should have been trying to tell you all along, Chief. My only excuse is that I wasn’t looking beyond my own selfish viewpoint, but it was a real eye-opener to see how everyone mucked in when we were trying to find you, kiddo. But now you know, and although I hardly think everything’ll be plain sailing from hereon in, hopefully you’ll soon have your doctorate, and a fulfilling career, even if it wasn’t what you might have envisaged before you hooked up with me.” 

“I’m where I want to be, Jim,” Blair replied sincerely. “But I have to say, I’m beat! I don’t want to be pulling an all-nighter like that one again in a hurry! I think I’ll get ready for bed, OK?” 

Jim smiled and nodded. “Good idea, Chief. You want the bathroom first?” and his grin widened when Blair quickly shrugged out of his plaid flannel overshirt. 

“If you don’t mind, Jim,” he said brightly as he reached down to grasp the hem of his long-sleeved Henley, intending to strip it off and throw it in the washing hamper on the way. 

What he was completely unaware of was the reaction Jim was having to his unintentionally provocative movements. As the material cleared the waistband of Blair’s jeans, Jim was transfixed by the sight of the smooth, white skin of Blair’s back as it was revealed inch by inch. Sentinel sight homed in on the growing expanse, and sentinel touch insisted on joining in. Stepping forward, he reached out, and Blair squeaked in surprise as large, warm hands encircled his waist, thumbs rubbing gentle circles at the base of his spine. 

“Hush, babe. Let me,” the warm, seductive voice whispered in his ear as the hands started to move again, smoothing up and around his back and shoulders, gradually working the sweater up and over his head until only his arms remained trapped in the sleeves, leaving him open to Jim’s gentle ministrations. 

It was the most erotic experience Blair had ever had, and as Jim sniffed and nibbled at his exposed neck, he trembled in anticipation. So good. It was so good. To be at the mercy of sentinel attention at last. It was everything he had ever wished for. 

“Ah, Jim!” he murmured as he tilted his head to allow better access to his neck. “Love, you man, so much!” 

Jim was in no hurry, he was enjoying himself too much, but he had no intention of prolonging the moment unnecessarily. Allowing his hands to move around to Blair’s front, he slowly, so slowly tracked upwards through the soft fur of Blair’s chest until his thumbs just brushed the tips of nipples hard and aching for his attention. 

And that was enough to send Blair over the edge, coming in his jeans with a hoarse cry of delight and astonishment, the orgasm stronger than any he could remember. Strong enough to cause him to pass out momentarily, he came around to find himself now completely free of the Henley, cuddled close on Jim’s lap on the sofa. 

“Oh, man! That was…amazing! Goddess, I can’t remember the last time I came in my pants!” he snickered ruefully. “And you didn’t even need to touch me below the waist! Thanks, Jim. So much. But what about you?” 

“De nada, babe. I’ve been wanting to do that for a while now, and didn’t want to wait any longer to show you how I feel. You’re beautiful, Blair, and I’m sorry I waited for so long to tell you. But the night is young yet, babe. How do you feel about coming upstairs with me? It’s time we both shared that big bed.” 

“Oh man, I’m so down with that,” Blair replied, his smile as bright as the sun. “Lead the way, lover. I’m all yours!” 

Sliding off Jim’s lap, hand in hand they climbed the stairs as fast as Blair’s still wobbly legs could manage. 

And despite their tiredness, sleep was a long time coming as they loved each other to exhaustion, their bond strengthening as their mutual adoration was finally acknowledged and set free. Free to learn, to explore and discover that the fact was every bit as good as the fantasy, if not better. Sentinel and Guide were as one at last.  


\-----------------------------  


**Epilogue:**  


**Several months later:**  


Driving south into the Cascades on their way to the Sentinel Unit base, Jim cast an affectionate glance over at his hyper passenger. Blair was almost bouncing in his seat, his demeanour so much like the enthusiastic grad student of their first meeting, only minus the ‘grunge’ look. This time, he was neatly, if still casually dressed, and with his hair tied back and his wire-rimmed glasses in place, Jim thought he looked both cute and delectable, and suitably scholarly for his new role as trainer and advisor to the Unit’s latest batch of recruits. It was a marked improvement from the distressed and disillusioned young man Jim and his friends had liberated from Lee Brackett’s clutches, and it did Jim’s heart good to see him thus. 

Turning to grin inquisitively at his bigger partner, Blair asked, “Anything wrong, Jim? Am I annoying you?” 

“Nah, Junior. Just enjoying the view,” Jim replied fondly. “You looking forward to this latest session then?” 

“You bet, man!” came the enthusiastic response. “I really want to see how Anton and Melanie are progressing in particular. Of the group, I feel that they have the makings of a really special team. In fact, I believe that with practice Anton will prove to be almost as talented as you, Big Guy, and I’m glad he has had the chance to see for himself what can be achieved.” 

“Aww, Chief, you say the nicest things!” Jim chuckled, pleased despite his gentle self-mockery. “Maybe this old warhorse still has a few tricks up his sleeve after all! But I have to admit that I’m glad that Colonel Matheson listened to you when you asked that I be included in the ‘training package’. I mean, I didn’t really fancy being left home alone while you were teaching here, and it suits my protective instincts to be on hand, just in case. 

“But having said that, I’m generally impressed by the attitude of the majority of the trainees and staff towards you. I mean, knowing the military like I do, I’ve seen far too many instances of prejudice and bullying by brainless jarheads. It’s good to know that they appreciate you for what you are, babe.” 

Blair’s smile was wide and warm as he replied. “That’s good of you to say, man. And I have to admit that I never expected to actually enjoy this job as much as I do. I assumed I’d hate everything about it, but they really do treat me well. I guess it wouldn’t be the case in a regular Unit with much more regimentation to deal with, but the Colonel really does have a more open-minded attitude than most, and I appreciate the leeway he grants me. And because of that, I’m going to try very hard never to abuse the privilege, even if sometimes I have to bite my tongue!” 

Jim laughed outright at that, knowing just what Blair meant. His guide was probably the most free-spirited and tolerant individual he’d ever met, and even the specialised Unit’s less rigorous restrictions must feel strange to a young man with Blair’s upbringing. But nevertheless, Blair had thus far been as good as his word, happily practicing practical anthropology and also genuinely enjoying his new teaching role. After all, as he freely admitted to Jim, all the sentinel and guide trainees were there because they wanted to be, which was far from the case with a good many freshmen he had had to deal with in the past who had only taken his classes because they believed – mistakenly – that it would give them easy credits. All in all, the newly-fledged Doctor Sandburg wasn’t missing Rainier anything like as much as he had expected to. 

Because yes, it had only taken a remarkably short time for Blair to be granted his PhD. As he had admitted to his friends in Major Crimes, the diss had been finished for a while in rough draft form, and with a bit of concentrated effort, he had polished it up and submitted it soon after negotiating his terms of contract with the Sentinel Unit. With pressure from Colonel Matheson, his dissertation committee quickly arranged his defence, and as Jim expected - even if Blair himself hadn’t been so certain - he sailed through it to the delight of his friends and colleagues everywhere. And even Chancellor Edwards was grudgingly forced to accept the fact that the paper would now disappear into the official government archives; something which didn’t trouble Blair as much as Jim thought it might. But as Blair had explained, “I know I ought to feel sad that my diss won’t get circulated to the general public, because I admit that I think it’s probably the best thing I’ve ever written. But I’d always have worried that the wrong people would have put two and two together and realised who my Primary Subject was. And even if we now know that you weren’t in danger of being snatched by the government, there are plenty of criminals out there who might have taken advantage of the knowledge of how to temporarily disable you. I’d never forgive myself if I thought I’d left you open and vulnerable to sensory abuse like that.” 

Jim smiled to himself as he concentrated on driving again. He had to admit that he had been greatly relieved to hear Blair’s words, because as he had ‘fessed up before, he had truly hated being a study subject, even though he knew that at the time it was only fair to have agreed to Blair’s request, knowing how much he needed the grad student’s help in the early days. He had always worried that word would leak out about his abilities, and even though he was much more comfortable with them now, he was still a very private individual, and hated the very concept of any form of notoriety. 

Having said that, he knew that so far there had been no sign of his secret leaking out to fall into unscrupulous hands. Although his closest friends and colleagues now knew about his senses and Blair’s role in helping him utilise them, they had been as good as their word and kept it to themselves. There was still the occasional query and some unfounded speculation from other departments, but they were met with noncommittal shrugs and gentle evasion, much to both his and Blair’s gratification. 

And as far as Blair’s new position within the PD was concerned, the young man had been pleasantly surprised at how well he had been accepted overall. There may have been a few detractors while he was still an unpaid observer and ride-along, especially amongst those who considered that he was being treated with more tolerance than his status appeared to warrant, but now he had achieved his doctorate, and had been taken on as a paid consultant, he was generally treated with respect. And it didn’t hurt that he had already achieved marked success on several occasions when working both with MCU and other departments, which caused Jim no little pride on his young partner’s behalf. 

And then there was life at home, and as far as both men were concerned, it couldn’t be better between them. The old, easy camaraderie was back now that Blair had the reassurance of the bond that Jim really did love him and want him for himself as much as for what services he could provide. For his part, Jim knew for certain that his guide would never willingly leave him, so that the old fears of abandonment and intimacy had been replaced by whole-hearted joy in his young partner. Their lovemaking continued to grow in both expertise and experimentation; both men thoroughly enjoying their new intimacy and the opportunity to indulge themselves and each other as much as possible. Because far from seeing even less of each other than previously, when Blair was frantically juggling his time spent with Jim with his teaching and studying commitments, thanks to the Colonel’s willingness to accommodate Blair’s request for Jim’s assistance, and the PD’s slightly more grudging acceptance of the situation, they now worked together effectively full-time. Certainly, they were very discreet during their stays at the Unit’s Training Centre, but they were satisfied simply to be together, knowing that they could make up for lost time in the sex department as soon as they were back home in the loft. As Jim had remarked only last night, anticipation sweetened the event even more when they knew they had to be on their best behaviour for some weeks at a time. 

At that thought, his smile grew wider as they approached the main gate and security barrier, causing Blair to peer over at him, a delightful, quizzical grin on his face. 

“What is it Jim? You’re looking very happy! Happy and…um…inscrutable?” 

“Just thinking, baby. About last night – and the hot sex! And something else just occurred to me. When Brackett kidnapped you, as far as I was concerned, it was the worst day of our lives. I simply couldn’t conceive of anything more devastating than maybe never seeing you again. Never being able to admit at long last how I really felt about you. 

“But last night was the best yet, babe. And I’m convinced that there’s even better to come.” 

Blair’s smile outshone the sun as he reached over to squeeze Jim’s thigh. 

“Oh, man, I know it! And I couldn’t be happier, lover. This is how it was meant to be.” 

They shared a long, intimate look as Jim pulled up at the barrier, then they were all business again as they produced their IDs and were waved through with a smile. 

Life was good.  


\---------------------------------  


**Addendum:**  


Partly because his attention was mostly focussed on his partner, and also since they were entering a secure and restricted area, Jim had no reason to pay any particular notice to the anonymous white delivery van parked just outside the compound’s main entrance. And since the van itself, if not necessarily this particular driver, made frequent stops at the base to deliver non-essential, special-ordered luxury items to the base personnel, the security guards at the barrier had no reason to suspect that anything was out of the ordinary. The van never entered the compound, and neither did its various drivers, so only a cursory check would be carried out at the entrance, especially as the whole area was covered by CCTV anyway. And of course, any packages delivered would automatically undergo the whole scanning process before being allowed into the compound, just in case. It wouldn’t do for Captain Stiles’ special blend of coffee to be sharing its box with an explosive device after all. 

On this occasion, just after Jim and Blair had been waved through, the security guard accepted a package from the deliveryman, handing it over to his colleague to scan thoroughly as he signed off on it. Glancing up, he noted the smiling, rather scruffy man, automatically registering the familiar shaggy, badly-cut brown hair, thick-lensed, black-framed glasses and day-old stubble. 

“There you go, sir. Have a nice day!” he murmured politely as he handed back the electronic pad. 

“Hey, you too, man!” replied the delivery guy with a friendly grin. “See ya again soon!” and with a jaunty wave, he strolled nonchalantly back to his dusty vehicle, having seen everything he wanted to see.  


\---------------------------------  


As he drove unhurriedly away from the compound, an irritated grimace crossed Lee Brackett’s face as he resisted the urge to scratch an itch beneath his untidy brown wig. It wouldn’t do to be pulling the annoying rug off just yet; not until he got back to his cheap motel room anyway, where he would undergo another change of identity before making his way home again. His expression morphing into one of rueful self-mockery, he chastised himself for all kinds of fool, putting himself at unnecessary risk simply because he wanted to see for himself that his revised plans for Beautiful Blair had turned out the way he had hoped. _‘And it seems as if they certainly have, Lee, old man,’_ he told himself. _‘Matheson couldn’t have been more pleased when I told him where he could find young Blair, just as my erstwhile ‘handlers’ couldn’t have been more livid when they realised I’d given them the slip again._

_‘And isn’t it just as well that I had a bolt-hole and funds already in place, eh? More would have been nice, but I have enough for now, at least, and I can’t complain about the weather or the company.’_ And he had to grin at the mental picture of his comfortable beach house overlooking pristine white sands and a turquoise ocean. In the weeks since he had retreated there, he had never wanted for attractive and accommodating female partners, but even as he enjoyed their freely-offered attributes, he couldn’t help but envisage a certain slender but compact curly-haired young man, and it still galled him to think that it was Jim Ellison who was now enjoying those delights. 

But it was what it was, and who’d have thought that he, Lee Brackett, would ever have put someone else’s comfort and welfare before his own? 

He chuckled wryly at the thought that it hadn’t really been that difficult or particularly dangerous for one such as he to get here after all. He was a master of disguise, and had many, many contacts in the world’s criminal underbelly, and he was ever one to make the most of a favourable opportunity when it arose. Just as, two nights ago in a run-down diner not far from his motel, he struck up a friendly conversation with a disgruntled, newly off-duty delivery van driver. A few beers and a generous monetary incentive had been enough to persuade said driver to take a bit of much-needed time off while Brackett magnanimously offered to take over his deliveries for the next two days. The necessary disguise was an easy one to adopt, and once he dropped the van off outside of its usual driver’s shabby trailer home, no one would be the wiser, and Brackett would sink out of sight again. 

It was all good, and gratifying to find that he had lost none of his old skills, especially as he may yet need them again at some point. 

Perhaps there would be another opportunity to visit Beautiful Blair again after all. Who knew?  


**The End**


End file.
